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Writer's picturemelissagoodrich27

July 6 - Soft white underbelly


sometimes I live

in the past participle state

of what was

And I feel the rigidity of grief and loss

calcifying my bones

until they are brittle

and liable to break


the longing for a return

to sacred days

and the pain of knowing

the days will never come again

vulcanizing my skin

acclimating me

to all future weather conditions

no matter how tumultuous

or unexpected


I've spent so long

telling myself that a scintilla of doubt

is better than an abundance of hope

that self-abnegation

is better than self-interest

and I forgot how to

let things flow

to let things go


I drown out the good

with mental monologues

about how the world isn't safe

and I talk to the little girl

who worried that her brother

would not come home

and tell her that one day he won't

and you saw that coming, darling

you can predict everything

you can control fates

if only you'd stepped in

and other terrible lies of the mind


when the truth of it is

you can't stop rivers from flowing

or change the way the wind is blowing

you can't stop fires from burning

you can't stop the world from turning


but you should never let

the broken world turn you

so be at the ready

be a little harder girl

and yet I yearn for softness

for my insides to be sinuous

pulsating with a life force

that connects to every part

of the bodymind

the tender parts readily exposed

I don't like my razor tongue

that cuts in retaliation

before the words are lost

and I am weary of the vast selection

of masks I wear

to pretend and perform away my pain

and I am bleeding from

the sharp edges I create

with nowhere to go but off


I like to meet my monsters

under the light of the glaring sun

I like to soothe them

and remind them their work is done

I tell them they're no longer allowed

to stay, to slay, to lie in wait

in the shadows of my mind


I don't want to be exiled from

the beauty and the pain

of the disappearing present

or spend my life talking to ghosts

of the irreclaimable past


I want to stay connected

to all that is growing and changing

I want to wonder,

what if something good happens?

what if it all works out?

I want to feel the earth beneath my feet

instead of dancing on air

for fear that at any moment

the bottom will drop out


I want my soft white underbelly

to be force of strength

an unencumbered gift

a source of light

a birthplace of oneness

a reminder that I am

resilient and alive



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