I am learning to be touched
Strong fingers massaging tension from my back
Warm hugs because we care
The playful acceptance of a high five
Our butts touching in tiny train seats as we sleep through the night

I am learning to be touched
To admire a man and wish he was family
To talk to a friend until it hurts
Reaching for memories filed away
I’m learning to write about it
To talk about it
To cry

Last night we sat with hot chocolate and tea
Each revealing his pain to help the others heal
Arguments about blood, love, family, caring
Teaching me the meaning of friends.
The world began to make sense
Held in the hands of those who care
Molded into a manageable crisis as I was
Sculpted into my own Winged Victory

This morning I took off my pants, changing clothes
I stood
Half naked in front of another
Speaking my nightmares, my fears, of my father
Fully naked in another sense

She says, “thank you for sharing”
She means, “I am touched”