Leaning Toward

There is a festering wound in me

That I must confront, that I must see

But it’s as if my mind is always running

To escape the lurking presence of sorrow,

As if it were a monster, always prowling,

Seeking to disarm my carefully composed resolve

To face the unbearable without truly breaking.

I don’t want to break

I don’t want to collapse

I don’t want to give in

I don’t want to hurt alone

I don’t want to let the darkness back in,

But if I cannot allow myself to be vulnerable

If I continue to flee from possibility of pain,

I will never truly live, dear soul, I will never survive.

So I will do what I must, I will lean into sorrow

As if it were the warm, welcoming shoulder

Of my kindest, most beloved friend,

Without shame, without fear,

Letting myself fall apart

To piece back together again.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

2 thoughts on “Leaning Toward

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