by eloiza jorge
I’m fine alone
She says, wanting to convince herself.
She has survived.
Clawed, climbed, clambered out of depths of anguish
Cobbling, crafting, reconstructing a life.
Finding firm ground underneath
Broken open enough for wisdom to take root
For a sturdy backbone to get built.
Yet it’s sweeter, gentler, kinder
In someone else’s presence.
The good fortune in encountering
Sisters, healers, angels
Still the deep risk.
Words not landing in just the right place
Fear of being shamed, or worse, betrayal.
Haunted by past hurts
It’s easier to remain unseen
Yet she yearns for her innards to be known
For her gnarled, scarred, pulsing, and alive heart to be held
Tenderly and with great care.