Safe Place
I built a room inside my ribs and left the door unlocked. Come in, take off the day, there is nowhere here you have to be but soft.
Words
Poetry
Where words become refuge, and language reaches for what is often left unspoken.
Generalized
They gave my fear a clinical name, as if naming the weather could send it home. Still — it helped to know the storm was allowed to be a storm.
Inventory
Tonight I counted what stayed: two hands, one breath, the stubborn animal of my heart still doing its plain, astonishing work. It was enough. It is always, somehow, enough.
Translation
What I cannot say in words I say in yellow. What I cannot say in yellow I leave as a line that never quite closes, so you know I am still talking.