My Inner Self

Unhealthy habits grow in sun-deficient soil;

it is difficult to weed them out.

They wrap up around my toes and dig me into the ground.

Prodding into my veins, roots plunge through my

Chest:

Crack-

ing

Ca-

ving

Plunging downward, my back drops onto the earth.

There’s a special kind of safety when I find it after panic.

I uncurl my fingers and face my palms to the sun

asking,

quietly,

for her warmth.

Heal my body and mind.

Give me strength to be kind.

My chest greets her light.

The sun bends her fingers into the divots of my rib cage,

She pulls my chest open s o w i d e —

I swallow her entirely.

Her arms wrap around you:

My Inner Self.

The sun’s light shrivels the weeds, and

gives you warmth to grow

big enough to face me.

We merge into one and I feel whole—

My chest:

vulnerable

ready

to hold space for you.