In the Midnight Hour

by Kaitlyn Marzetta McClung

Praise for the crisis workers

who tell me I didn’t deserve that. //

Who hear the poems I can’t write

in the midnight hour

when my sentences can’t form 

cuz the thoughts won’t stop

then feelings get heavy 

and my chest hurts

but my brain is tired 

when my heart is aching 

and my ribs are stabbing.//

Praise for the crisis workers 

and the mental health workers 

and the social workers 

and the teachers who taught them 

how to say the right words 

to keep me from falling…//

Praise to the therapists 

who pick up the pieces 

after the last one said the right thing 

but I wasn’t ready to hear it

and I fell. //

Praise to the people

who help people 

like me. //