I think the most beautiful souls have been broken more than once
that their chests have been cut open and sewn up again more than they’d care to talk about.
I think about those times when I didn’t want to open my eyes to the truth
or get out of bed
or will myself to eat and drink. I wanted to be a prisoner in my own body.
And just as our seams are about to burst
we recognize there is hope–
shining, gleaming rays of hope pouring out of our wounds turned to scars
reopened once again
because we cannot keep ourselves from reliving our pasts
until we realize just how vital we are to the universe,
that our bodies are capable of still going,
that some unknown force
has whispered into our ear,
you have more to give than you know.