Danielle is a professional left- and right-brainer--she's a freelance artist and works in communications at an education non-profit in Los Angeles. She deeply believes in the power of poetry as a cathartic tool and means of compelling storytelling. Danielle is an east coast native, former high school teacher, and breakfast lover. One day, she hopes to complete a New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle without any help.

A Word For The Earthquake

by Danielle Bennett

I know you are angry

I know it’s your job

to rattle us into momentary fear

to test what we are made of

I get it—when I

do not know what I stand for,

how do I expect to keep

standing when you come?

If you are coming for honesty,

then honestly, you already know

how often I am waiting for applause,

the way my ugly motives

have constructed such beautiful things

but here I am anyway, trying again and again

to make normal out of being normal and

having nothing impressive to report,

while I’m learning how impressive it is

to move slow enough that I can feel

the wind on my skin,

that I can hold still

even at the boney rattle of your shake

Isn’t this what you came for anyway?

This skyscraper stripped to its naked

truth is yes, I am afraid.

And that’s perhaps the bravest confession

you can have me make.

I am losing my hollow strength.

It feels like freedom

to level my own intentions

before you can,

ready to risk some rubble

for the sake of starting again.