When will her heart stop?
Will she take her last breath tonight?
When will my phone ring?
Nobody knows -
Not even her.
I will spread dirt into every crevice of my broken heart and plant flowers so big and beautiful, that their roots will mend all the shattered pieces back together, and you’ll never be able to see the mess I used to be.
Let my silence teach you
what my words
This year, do not explain yourself (especially repeatedly) to someone who does not listen. Let your silence be your response. Let your happiness be your response. Let your peace be your authenticity.
I have heard about your time in Viet Nam,
operating on wounded soldiers.
About your hearing loss due to the bombs.
About your then husbands abuse
that left your unborn child dead.
Your feelings of worthlessness.
And you're angry,
and you should be -
it wasn't fair.
Now when I feel irritated because your TV
is so loud, I try to remember all of this -
I remember my dark times too -
so tonight I close my door against the noise,
and let you be.
I am in an assisted living household
The poetry isn’t in all these words —
It’s in knowing I survived them.
Holy smokes! Thank you everyone for all of the support! I don’t come here too often so I did not expect this; what a beautiful surprise ♥️
I was twenty-five and suicidal, barreling down 35W, the accelerator, pushed to the floor, weaving in and out of traffic.
I heard the siren and paid no attention until I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror, I slowed to a stop.
The officer approached my window and motioned for me to roll it down.
"Mam, you were going ninety-seven miles an hour." He looked at my tearstained face. "Are you all right?"
"Offices, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Can I call someone for you?" I shook my head. "Ok, I'll let you off with a warning. Please drive carefully." He pulled away as I sat shaking, realizing what I had done.
Now I am writing this memory, knowing I could have killed someone, and acutely aware it was white privilege which allowed me to escape without roadside consequences.
Now when my housemate hurls racial slurs, I tell her to stop.
I am a warrior.
Stronger than her demons.
Braver than the darkness.