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  • Writer's pictureRai Cantisano

when things work out

nothing is happening. except for everything.

sweet, steady, lovely everything.

i feel untethered. lost. for a moment.

you see, i am used to the mess of life.

i'd been a sailor of broken hearts, infinite rage, ills of the world and "better days to come".

i am decorated multiple time warrior of shit-show arena.

and now i am a gladiator in paradise.

what do i do? where to scream at?

peace. it's loud and i can choke on the silence.

yet, this is what i want. for 30 years i have longed to put down my munitions and pick up my life.

what did i mean by that?

i asked my therapist this week, if she thought i was depressed or was that just what safety felt like.

this is not a hopeful post. or a despairing one, necessarily.

i just think we don't talk enough about the work it takes to (let) go from struggle to ease.

to acclimatize oneself with peace.

to repurpose a body that was ready for peaks and valleys when things (consistently) got beyond great or fell apart.

living on a roller coaster was my drug.

planting roots may feel like death.

what am i dying for?

i imagine the answer is on the other side.

for everybody to stop fighting i first must do the same.

i trust it.

as if tomorrow-me is calling

she says "a house is only as good as its foundation

a heart as its quiet

and a life as its ability to honor death"

a knot on my throat

here lies the gladiator

she fought beautifully


to the sound of Tiësto and Chainsmokers

and then she surrendered

allowing the world to do the same.

may she rest in peace

in grown up heaven,

plant paradise


i'll let you know where she springs.

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