sturdy bones. give structure that let us tread. back to the soil. when drowning is a threat.
how can you know your place? if the land has a foreign taste?
learn to dig deep. unearth the treasures waiting beneath. the surface of things.
harvest the bounty. where understanding awaits.
i was raised in corn and concrete
equal parts sharp. and sweet.
skyscrapers of longing
to escape those fields
thick with mouths that won’t. speak.
big city pride. small town minds.
they all collide
chaotically in that space behind
my empty. chest.
my heart lives. in my brain.
how else is a woman
supposed to survive. all that shame.
born from the conflict
of being taught to believe
that she can be. anything.
except. what. she. is.
i am worthy
by the mere. fact.
of my breathing