Day 27 – Scars


I wonder why some days it hurts to write.

Why I am made of skin and sinew and muscle but my heart is such a fragile thing.

Why my joints complain on sunny days, why heat makes me want to run and hide in the cold wind.

I wonder why we break, and I wonder why our scars knit us whole again.

We fall apart, and fall together.

Day 26 – Ode to My Mother

Ode to My Mother

There is a woman I know.

She is brave, and she is beautiful.

Her hair looks like mine,

Her eyes see mountains when the days are foggy.

Her hands are my branches and her arms are my harbor,

I see her in spring daffodils, in rainbows, in sunny skies.

She walks with a courage along the road, 

Gives me a path to follow.

When I am strong, I see her spirit in me.