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i never knew the meaning of wrenching
until tonight, when my body tried
alone on the floor,
cold in the dark,
to make this thing stop being a part of me.

i never knew the meaning of wrenching
until tonight, when my mind dry-heaved
up from the trenches,
out from the crevices,
boiling rock and an avalanche of nothingness.

i had no idea the meaning of wrenching
until tonight, when my all of me shattered
so busy screaming
i forgot to look for pieces
and there's not a one to hold my hand.

forty-eight.

on my knees in a forest
that smells like rain
in the cool of the morning.
the dirt is wet under
my hands and i can smell
the leaves that have
been giving the rainwater
to the ground all night.
i thought i'd fallen asleep in
a desert, everything dry
and hurting, dry and aching,
dry and ready to give up.
i thought i'd fallen asleep alone
and i thought i was worth
something less for letting my
heart get tired, weary.
But this rain permeates all in
the forest i woke up to.
Each drop falls from the sky
and multiplies, bursting
into a nourishment that no other
cloud could provide,
soaking into every surface and
filling old cells, replenishing
old wineskins, renewing a dry and
tired heart. dig my fingers
into the fresh black earth, dirt
under my fingernails and
a smile on my face. there's no
need for tears when rain
like this cleans every part of me,
makes everything fresh
and fills up my heart like a puppy
drinking mama's milk.

forty-six.

hand on my heart and
you've got me one down.
i don't remember how
you made your way this
far into all i've become.
hand on my heart and
you're wound around me
like roots, around me like rope,
                around me like wind.
wound around my heart like fire
and i can't extract your
fingers from mine.
you are an intricate fiber
and you're strong like iron.
i know who i am and i
can live without you.
i can thrive without you
but you're such an
intricate fiber.
you give me room to grow
and your hand holds my
heart loosely,
asking quietly to be allowed
to maintain that
one privilege.
you have been fashioned
for a purpose that coincides
beautifully with mine,
but i won't call this
coincidence.