Sunlight Cost Nothing

Somebody asked me how I'm doing

and I said I'm actually good,

and I watched their face do something

they were hoping I wouldn't see.

There's a rule nobody printed:

if it happened, you stay marked,

you can heal, but do it quietly,

and never look too pleased.

Well, I've paid what it cost.

I have paid it in full and in public —

Sunlight costs nothing! (nothing at all!)

Nobody's rationing the day!

Sunlight costs nothing! (nothing at all!)

There's no queue and there's no quota —

I'm not taking it from anybody

when I stand out here and smile.

Sunlight costs nothing. (nothing at all)

There's a strange little economy where suffering is currency

and the people with the most of it get made into an audience,

and if you dare recover you'll get side-eyed for the treachery —

"must not have been that bad then, look how well she's doing lately."

Nah. My good life is not a retraction.

It's not evidence against me, it's the whole of my reaction.

I'm not performing damage for the comfort of a room,

and I'm not performing wellness either — I'm just having a good afternoon.

Sunlight costs nothing! (nothing at all!)

It don't come out of your share!

Sunlight costs nothing! (nothing at all!)

My joy is not a verdict on your pain —

we can both be in the garden.

There is genuinely room.

Sunlight costs nothing. (nothing at all)

Room enough! (room enough!)

Room enough! (room enough!)

Sunlight costs nothing! (nothing at all!)

And I will not dim it down

to make my history look heavier,

to make a stranger comfortable,

to prove that it was real —

it was real, and I'm still here, and I'm out here in it.

Sunlight costs nothing. (nothing at all)