Written by Vicki Barclay
First, blank walls. / You’ll fill them eventually with / Photos of moments you almost missed and/ Shelves crammed with the books you almost never read. / But you will now. / Let the knotted memories slip from your trembling fingers / And exhale the helpless/ Tangle of moments you aren’t even / Sure actually happened, / The bitterness of silence on your budding tongue, and the / Sting of your innocent cheek. / It was always rosy enough. / Take a deep breath and / Know that you are more than your need / Want/ For a safe place to rest that cheek. / It’s time to forgive / Yourself for being a child when you / Were literally a child. / You did not, and still don’t owe them / Your Beauty, / Your Body, / Or your Silence.