therapy

                the hard season                will               split you wild.              do not worry.             you will bleed water.            do not worry.           this is grief.

          your smile will fall out and down your skin and            there will be some scorching.             but do not worry.              keep speaking the years from their hiding places.               keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you have died.           keep the rage tender.              because the soft season will come                 it will come

            loud             ready             gulping             both hands in your heart             up all night             up all of the nights                                                  

                                                                                                    to drink all damage into love.                                                                                      

-Nayirrah Waheed