Twenty-One Years

Almost twenty-one years,
and what have I done?

Twenty-one whole years—
of memories surge through my mind,
like electricity, draining my energy:

every war wound,
(The cut on the middle finger of my left hand)
every image,
(the endless folders of pictures on my computer) every moment,
(eleven million, thirty-seven thousand and six hundred minutes)

of those twenty-one years of my life, come charging at me...
Out of the closet where I have stored all of them so neatly over the years.
My first experience with music,
(Performing in that show choir)
My first realization to my many callings,
(2003 I picked up a pen to write, 2007 I wanted to become an actor)

The friends who came and
the friends who left, or
never left my heart, but my life.

Almost 21 years, and what have I done?
I’ve loved life, savoring in every moment,
which was often caught on camera.
Almost 21 years, and what have I done?
I’ve made my share of mistakes
and had brief moments of recognition, self-hating and uncertainty.

As these first 21 chapters of my book are published, the public asks for more—
20—no 40 and 50…or possibly 60 more?

I glance at the last box, it contains the memories of the 20th chapter of my life. I care not for those memories—as I gather the courage to glance at this chapter.

I decide no.

Then put all the boxes, neatly, back into the closet—
keeping the 20th chapter on my desk—to taunt me—
and make me think of it, every time I make a decision

every time I breathe,
every time I think,
every time I sleep,
every time I move—