finding grace among the rubble

sorrow as sustenence

sorrow as sustenance

you call swallowing my sorrow
an act of self-denial;
i call it encasing freedom
where i can breathe it the most 

where it can swirl as a tempest,
as a hurricane, reminding myself
how it is to feel the things
which spill out of my mouth

broken and gasping, finding
their way to a page. do you
know how it is to make others feel
but to never feel yourself? 

it is a void, an abyss, an emptiness
without the feeling of staring up
at the ceiling at night making pictures
out of cracks and feeling time slip; 

by swallowing my sadness
i am taking that nothingness
already cavernous inside of me
and planting something in it, 

i am teaching myself how
to create swirling nebula out
of pain. i am my own
cradle of newborn stars. 




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