The mechanical resonance
that fills my bones
has me cracking.
Constructive frequency
chips away
at my shoulders and knees.
Rejection to critique
to the words
that no one speaks
that haunt me
that makes my courage
flee
my visage
disfiguring.
This is not pretty.
This is the ugly
me.
But I keep getting up,
pushing forward,
moving on,
walk the line
the rhythm and rhyme
that don’t waste time
with “I’m not fine.”
Because I am.
I am good.
I mean I’m not,
but the place I’ve stood
is not hallowed ground
and it’s nothing profound
it’s nothing short
of white noise
and useless sound.
But I am a symphony
walking to the swing beat
that cascades from inside me
the one that sets my feet free
tells me I can be me
to keep on persevering
and in order to get me to sing,
it starts with something moving
gets my heart beating
the things I fear – fleeting
what held me back – deceiving
has no place – retreating
moving forward is freeing.
I walk to the cadence of Hope.
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