Old Voices

Old voices

remain in wisps around us

as we fight to hold our ground

light grey traces of pain insist—

still we pretend there are no clouds

 

We are running recklessly

fleeing yet frozen in flight

desperately avoiding the ground beneath our feet;

each tiny failure in feeling unintentionally

 

Old voices

a part of our tapestry we cannot escape

They break us most within our sacred silence

unrest in our bones; choosing to carry such weights

 

Words weave through us, waiting

to heal us

through hurts too intricate to name—

Breaths catching in small delicate lungs

without purging, they risk stealing our flame…

Carrie Gilbert 2018

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