His Last Poem

I will keep this day in the history book of my heart. Jot down the era and exact date my mind was liberated. 
I will recall this info from memory with the same unsure anxiety of a middle schooler taking his SATs. His score won’t determine his life, but mine will. 
I will celebrate this day annually. Take off from work and plan for various activities of the season. I will be preoccupied with the pressure to have fun that I do not reflect. I do not think of the he past. I do not dig up old bones. 
I will be grateful. I will praise the fireworks of my heart-freedom. Bow to the anger that once held my head under water but now propels my tongue to say no and mean it. 
When they look for you, I will say he does not live here anymore. This poem is all that’s left.