Tuesday, February 24, 2009

I have

I have
blisters on my feet,
credit card debt and student loans,
scars on my wrists,
hope tattooed on my skin,
and a many times patched-up heart.
I’ve got
secrets and traumas,
theory,
stretch marks.
I’ve been
abused, alone, homeless.
I’ve traveled, nested, escaped.
I’ve felt
blessed.
I’ve achieved and started over,
I have done what needed to be done,
I endured, survived.
I have danced till my feet bled.
I have held on
until I could no longer feel my hands.
And I've learned to let go.
I have loved to death.
I've relocated and adapted,
I've moved on and I have returned.
I have claimed mine,
I've imagined ours.
I have refused and rejected.
In loving arms, I've capitulated.
I've argued when necessary,
and made a point when possible.
I've stared and smelled the ocean,
and kept going,
step by step, always reaching,
so I could get to those roses.