Aftershocks

Aftershocks

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I used to stroke my grandma's face

When sitting by her side,

But, now, too often, simple touch

Can make me want to hide.

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When I was small, someone betrayed

My innocence and trust;

Leaving me with jagged wounds:

Shiny outside, inside rust.

—

I wore the facade of "okayness"

Lying to me, most of all.

Robbed of a means of affection,

Fear led me to build up my walls.

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There exists hope in my story.

Love patiently comes to heal me.

Slowly, we inch toward progress.

One day, I will rise — truly free.

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