today i touched
trees and smelled
leaves and took
a nap with my
dog and my mom
told me, "meg,
you're going to
be just fine."

i've started to put myself
back together with the pieces
i have left sitting around in my
apartment and while some of the
original sections are missing it seems
they've been replaced with something
like sugar, something like sunshine,
something like me with a slightly
warmer tint

i shot off rockets into the sky months ago
that burst into words to  remind me to
keep going     keep breathing     keep
holding my heart   higher than the
river of   y o u r   hands that was
flooding down  m y  street and
threatening   to   break  down
my  door.  i  put all  my  best
pieces in aboxandsentthem
to myself    (cc: my closest
friends)   and i am ready
to get them back, to put
my    h e a r t   on   my
sleeve where i have
always  kept it,  to
have you   f e e l
from across this
town that you did
not break me, did not
damage   me,  did   n o t
destroy my gumption or my
eagerness to take on the world,
did not make me into something
i am not.   i am a    worrier but    a
w        a        r         r        i         o         r
and  i  will  not  stop  going  until  my
head is quiet and my hands are still.
and  this  thing you  did  to me- this
supposedly life altering thing- will
just be a soft  reminder  of  only
the  climb i  made  to get  me
back    to    where    i    am.

you were a
month for
healing, for
becoming
whole again