I have a story inside me and I’m afraid it’s so big it could blot out the sun.
It rocks in the ocean of my belly and the waves come out in tears.
My face knows this place where I have never smiled, still as stone.
I have a story that rings from under glass. It can be seen but not heard. The bell seals me in, dampening on ground.
Seeking the dead who are not gone, the gone who are not dead.
I have a story.
It’s in the way my breath holds me, gut-punched, full ports of fear flooding my system.
I see it for myself and still it divides me.
I have a story so human, everyone knows and no one.
Originally published at Dooley M.