Cut Some Onions

When you're too scared to feel anymore, cut some onions.
When you cut your onions, don't try to control what comes over you, or out of you.
Feel your eyes well up, but don't let them cloud your vision.
Think about the trees being cut.
Think about the smoke.
Think about that time when you wanted to say so much but did not.
Think about the soundless screaming in your ears.
Think about the unfair choices they made you make.
Think about the tears in his eyes.
But don't stop.


Stand straight and continue what you started.
Be conscious of the knife moving.
Do it rhythmically.
Do it deliberately.
Let this be your release.
Let this be your penance.
Just don't cut your finger.
Feel the pins pricking your eyes.
Feel the liquid threatening to drip.
Feel your mind absorb the pain.
Feel the pain cleanse your mind.
And then continue.


When the onions are cut, wash your face with cold water.
Rinse your eyes and clear your nose.
Shed all your clothes and put them for wash.
Don't forget those jeans that have been hanging behind the door for three weeks.
Then step under the warm shower and tell yourself that it's over.


You converted the pain inside you into physical pain.
And then you got through it, bit by bit, onion by onion.
Say it out loud, three times, like Ma used to say.


It's over.
It's over.
It's over.