March 21st.

To my face, no 

This man, that one, you - 

But she’s in my ear, ghostly whispers of “just keep going” 

And the other one, she’s holding my hand, too. 

 

Cracked ribs, 

I didn’t think I would crawl out, back up, standing up; but now 

Cracking knuckles now, I’m healed, whole, and fighting  

Fighting for us, fighting for this 

Fighting for the women I believe in 

Fighting to be the woman I desperately needed

Cracked ribs then - 

Cracking knuckles now. 

 

We can do hard things 

Tiring, relentless pursuing 

These are our hard things

To my face, no - 

This man, that man, you.

 

But the cracked ribs are healed 

Hearing the sounds of cracking knuckles 

This is my earthly scream for me, for us, for all of them - 

This is yes.