POETRY

This is Where They All Come

a free verse poem on healing, #flowerweek

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

This is where
they all come
I am told,

but I have not,
— The mulish solitude
of healing, the obstinate
need to carry my own
wings forth — not that
healing needs explaining
or justifying
or permission
to bring you
to your knees —

I hear the whispers
in the curtains here,
feel the stirring of
presence. Sometimes
a quiet shift here and
then a turn — to ghost.

I am unsettled.
I take walks.

I cannot keep it at bay.

I drag the petals of myself
back into form,
away from thoughts of you.

They all come here to heal,
I am told, as I carry
three-drawers worth of clothes
and my life packed into
Sequined zipper bags.