(courtesy of creative commons / alexandra rudge.)

unsympathetic solitude
wrapped up in blinding dim
layered in privately free
levels of darkness and hidden spaces
voice and magnificence stored
part perfection seeping between charred ruins
swirls of dark and singe on top of healing bone
wisps of unkempt passion and wild in uncontrolled winds
waves of fragility and liberation tied to rules
dissolving stitches of hope and glory
in the bite of my lip, bracing for more of this
suppressed rigid rage confined to today

pushing through
like prayers in the lion’s den
pushing through
like meshach, shadrach, and abednego
pushing through
like ruth with naomi, in foreign fields
pushing through
like being born again, like resurrection
pushing through
like needing to get in the pool to heal

days on end
hiding in the corners of my own skin
combining enough pain
to metamorph into deep breaths and sighs
combining enough pain
to boil it all into a sage balm
combining enough pain
to turn it into lemon holy water
combining enough pain
to scrub the calluses of regret away
washing myself into soft
combining enough pain
to sacrifice an offering
of myself, to myself
combining enough pain
to churn into soothing peace