I am survival
it is etched
on my skin
in black ink
pierced through cartilage &
lobes with silver rings and studs
I am survival
it is knit into
my scalp
under salt & pepper hair
cropped close
when I decided
I was more
than long curly locks
no one’s eye candy
I am survival
it is visible
in faint half-moon
scar that circles my throat
& the other that plays
connect-the-dots
between pelvic bones
because square pegs
do not always come out
of round holes &
motherhood is not
for the faint of heart
I am survival
in fine lines that starburst
from corners of my eyes
drawn by laughter &
steely determination
declaring that I am no
mere girl but a woman grown
& I have lived
I am survival
when I clutch my pen
in aching hands
ignoring the pain
in each knuckle
as I cut the silence
in two
with its sharp tip
& refuse to put my truths
back in locked boxes
for other people’s comfort
I am. . .
my own
© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Fabulous.
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🙏 Thank you Gigi
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Powerful writing. Good stuff!
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Thank you so much Muse!
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