When will the clouds part, I asked
I’ve seen my days in blocks of stone, in drops of rain, in how I wake in fits
Never have I been made so aware.
Somehow it’s made my walk just a little bit faster.
You never tried to listen, to empower, to know what’s behind the hazel.
Somehow it’s made my heart just a little bit truer.

Sweetened, I reach out to those I do trust. They remind me of who I am. You cannot ever define me. You can sink. I am afloat (I suppose I always have been).

Beat me til I am bloodied. Your flowers will disintegrate. Tear the skin from my body, ignore the spark in my eyes, smirk as you carry on.  It is you. It is you.

Someday the poets shall arise.
Today the writers take note.