The Secret in the Blood
I hear the constant ticking of the clock. My reality is at a standstill. When will the results
come back from the lab? Why is it taking so long?
Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
I hear the constant ticking of the clock. My reality is at a standstill. When will the results
come back from the lab? Why is it taking so long?
Verse gleaming bright, imbued with might
Men’s words cannot define you anymore.
Once, you may have let others tear you apart
only to strike the final mutinous blow yourself;
but you have come back from that.
You are more than that.
Your potential is unlimited.
I break character through dynamic vocals and stray fingertips. The beach looks like me, sometimes: grainy, abundance of free speech, unintentionally waterlogged. But you, you live green: soiled, unrooted, an unexpected baptism in nature. Thirty times over. A clashing multiple of prints, seared and stained and loving, all working through the same tangles just to find what’s left in a woman. To find what’s left in a body.
My mom never knew she had actually prepared me the best way possible. She died thinking she had failed as a parent who should have protected her daughter. Because of her, I guarded myself and my daughters from a future of abuse, failure, and lost dreams. As a single mom, I didn’t have much to give my girls, but I gave them the confidence to become strong, determined women who have the courage to leave pies on the sidewalk when that’s the only option.
The ruthless cold shakes my being,
flooding me with memories,
reminding me of the days I walked naked,
freezing to death by my consuming pain.
Home is where the heart lives and breezes through you.
The landing at the top of the stairs sounded the loudest lament. Her fingers traced the expansion and contraction lines on the white-washed plaster walls as she took the first steps slowly, navigating the bowed and weakened wood on the stairs. The house and her family were accustomed to her. Read more