Practice Poem by Ruby Gitonga

I say I'm fine enough times
it starts to sound less like a lie
and more like a rehearsal
the way you say a word so often
it stops meaning anything,
then slowly starts meaning something new.

She tells me about her weekend
like it's just weather,
and I nod like it's just weather,
and some part of me is proud
of how normal my face has gotten.

It's strange, loving someone's happiness
from this particular angle
close enough to hear it,
far enough it isn't mine to hold.

I don't know if I'm healed
or just well-rehearsed.
Maybe today those are the same thing.
Maybe okay is just a room
you keep walking into
until one day you live there.