- This Painful Truth Is Beautiful Still
She feels like the tallest person on earth.
Where the problems trickle up, not down,
To use her as their place of resolve.
She wants to know the receiving end of a warm embrace.
To be covered with anything else than the garments
Begrudgingly thrown on her each morning.
She aches to be somebody’s child.
With her tiny hand wrapped around a lone finger.
Having someone’s entire world nestled in the palm of your hand,
A feeling she only knows how to give, never receive.
She must look down to find the light in her eyes,
For when she did look upward, there was no sunshine, no stars,
No moonlight. Only a dark haze of rough wind and bitter rain.
It is all she can do to keep her light ablaze, encircled in the width of her arms,
Her back shielding against the harsh elements.
Occasionally, the storm’s eye meets her own.
For a moment her breath, her heart, find the rhythm of a soft wave,
Lapping gently against the shoreline, a warmth slowly creeping in,
