NaPoWriMo 2024 — Day 12

Petals

I can rely on cycles. My arms
hold old bruises that ache
on days when the rain falls
a certain way. There’s no telling
when the weather will
take a downward spiral.
When a repeated phrase
thunders into my brain
spawning a lightning strike.

The cycles, however, they’re
a 12 year ordeal. Familiar faces
melt into old flames. Especially
the ones that burned me.
You’d think if enough people
speak out so urgently
about the same thing
that something would change,
but that’s too good a dream.

I always peek out my windows
at the wrong time. I look like
I’m worried about an innocent
passerby when I’m really
making sure no one’s
surrounding me. I heard
the robins from a padded
cell once. Their song
shouldn’t be a reminder
of such ugly things, but
beauty can’t always win
against darkness.

Wellness has its own season.
I’ve been waiting for it
since childhood taught me
hope & patience were
the best virtues. I learned
that a lot can happen
while you’re waiting
for blood to dry. I’m fine.
I’ll tell you I am anyway
& I’ll make sure you believe me.

The healing way is always
blooming. It comes around
again & again. Buds on
trees are blessed band-aids.
Wounds cry out beneath
flower petals. I let them cover
me to keep my heart warm.
I’ve never been good at
letting anything break me.
This is hypervigilance. This is being
ahead of the approaching
curve. This is keeping alert.

This is how you make
a charging river
change its tumultuous course.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash