don't try to give it shape - it is like water
cry it, carry it, but don't contain it
burying it is an option, but the bones of it
remain, remnant, reminiscent of an origin
you cannot utter, give name to - it
is a howl and a moan
so revel in its pleasure pain
open your mouth and hear its sound
from your own guttural shell
let it sit in your lungs, but don't
hold your breath, don't
hold back your heart
from beating through your chest
seeking exile
from the body present and still
reaching for ground
i would be lying to you if i said
there is safety from feeling
pain - is medicine
we make
we take
break
open the wound of wounds
die in it
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