this is a toast

This one's for the backup singers.

This is for the Hitler Youth, who didn't have a choice. This is for the cake-eaters and the wine-drinkers. It's for the sleepwalkers with bruised feet. Inhale. Exhale.

This is for everyone who cut their fingernails to play the guitar. This is for the family that stayed in the motel room before you. This is for old men with tattoos that blurred into their skin and made identical pictures of the blue-green sea. This is for every street fighter that spit out blood. Inhale. Exhale.

This is for falling when you meant to climb. For everyone who can't sit still. For the starving art majors. For saints and sinners; for lovers and fighters; for nieces and nephews. For the girl who took Prozac too young and turned suicidal instead. For your dad's motorcycle gang with similar regrets. Inhale. Exhale.

This is for laryngitis-singers and fire-walkers. For everyone who is too tired to fall asleep. For the skinny churchgirl whose pantyhose sag. For the sister wives. For good liars. For falling in love and we meant not to. This is for the men whose ears haven't stopped ringing, for the girls whose chlorine-green hair will never be the same. Inhale. Exhale.

This is a toast. This is a call to arms. This is a letter to someone's mother before she can change her mind. This is for you.

Because I think I know you, and all you need is a little caffeine, and perspective. You want so much but you think it's too much.  You like to make yourself miserable. Your favorite book has a bent cover and you are like a car wreck because you're hard to look away from. This is for you, in general, because you are a whole nation, you are an unwritten society, you are negative space around the silhouette of someone else, you are a silent rebellion, you are not what I expected, you are sealife, you are a family and you are their extended family, too.  

You are reading this and whoever you are, this is for you.

This is for your empty plaid jacket and your older sister. Inhale. Exhale.

This is for every innocent case ruled guilty, and every guilty one ruled innocent.  This is for the ones who pray and never lie about it. This is for everyone who grew gills just so they could swim. This is for the mean girls. This is for that tree falling with no one to hear it, and does it make a sound?

Inhale. Exhale.

This is for the hollow thing you feel when you're alone and you wonder if somehow, maybe, you're the only one left on Earth. And you don't want to be alone forever so you call out for anyone.  "Anyone?"

So this is for anyone else.

Because I am almost sure that I'm not alone in the world, but maybe I am and if you're out there, say something, because it's going to be a long, lonely year if I am the only thing left that has the use of a voice and an English dictionary and a beating heart.  

So speak up. Breathe. Inhale, exhale, and please, tell me if you're there.

Cheers,

Syl