A Synchronized Dance

I made a choice to rename isolation
Solitude
A time for me to cultivate fertilizer
Recite mantras like
“The heavier the pain the richer the soil”
Take this opportunity to listen to the dark
For too long
I have been on a mountain top crying out for help
Not realizing I was echoing back that which I do not want

It is difficult to admit I am a gun violence survivor
The fogginess of the faint silver handle combined with “he never pulled
the trigger” leaves me with an amnesia I have grown accustomed to
From far away it would appear I have effortlessly laid it to rest
Yet my body feels the memory
When I hear sirens
When I see the news

In January 2021 was when silence enveloped me
Cowering back to my familiar state of hiding in the trenches
A false safety
When the most dangerous place he invades is my mind’s eye
Prays in the lobby for my safe arrival home
Follows me in to make sure I never forget he is watching me
I imagine when I hit post on Instagram
The many other “he’s” will ignite their lights of predator on my image

I used to share my truest of all truths until one day truth telling became too much
like a synchronized dance of dodging bullets
The archived me that once was
Dances with the new me pushing to give birth
While the highlighted me that never will be
Dictates the rhythmic movement

While I brush the tangled weeds out of my hair
Dead strands balled up in between bristles
The old weighing down my thoughts begin to lift
I notice a glimpse of shine
Bright enough to catch the sun and not be intimidated
I wonder if I will be able to hold this amount of light
When I allow others to spot me
It is pathological
This amazement of how so much can be pulled out from my body
While simultaneously growing into fullness