i wear this weariness like a hand-me-down jacket
(too broad for these shoulders
frayed at the heart stitched on my sleeve
a mess of patchwork band-aids and safety pins) -
not well

still, it's cold and
these loose threads are more comfortable than anything new
through rain and even more rain
i march on, no longer hoping for shine
the water from every glass half spilled beats down on my shoulders,
soaks through all my layers,
drowns me from the inside-out
but we have faced worse than water-logged lungs
and a driftwood heart

darker clouds gather a hundred lives past the horizon

some storms come to pass,
some storms seem to last forever
sometimes the thunder clap is your own heart,
beating, pumping, urging you forward

through the storm
i weather the weight of a thousand whispered disappointments
(dreams
hopes
realities),
shrouded in my family's shadows
disguised as a hand-me-down jacket