Today I drew the cards
And they told me that to flourish
in my writing, and in my life,
I need to allow myself to feel my grief.
Because it withholds me,
Cripples me,
Retrains me.
That I must stop concealing my pain.
Stop hiding my broken emotions.
Stop hiding my sadness.
My loss is my power.
My devastation is my fuel.
My anguish is my battery.
My trauma is my fire.
To use in my writing, and to write about.
But it hurts.
It takes so much out of me
To put so much of a broken life on paper.
I blanket and hide and conceal and distract
So my heart isn’t heavy.
So I can sleep at night.
So I can find happiness in the things that used to make me happy.
I have been told that I am a pit of misery,
So I stopped, and became something else.
But apparently I need to shed my skin,
And allow myself to feel,
To heal and move on.
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