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by Maggie Olson
Last night I crumbled
and fragments of bone.
This morning I swallowed up my pieces
and am reborn.
life , at last
The breath enters and leaves your body
like waves rolling against the shore
and returning to the ocean.
It fills you up and leaves you empty.
Somehow it feels like more than just staying alive;
maybe you’re finally living again.
You aren’t really broken, you know.
At least not forever.
If you can summon your will,
you can put yourself back together again quite easily.
It takes time though,
for all the cracks to fill in with flesh.
It also takes letting go completely
of the way you used to be whole.
The pieces will never fit together quite the same.
It’s actually beautiful
but you won’t recognize that
until you’re on the other side of healing.
Maggie Olson (she/they) is a queer, femme poet living in Chicago. When not writing, Maggie is usually found running around in nature or spending time with chosen family and friends. They want to be a sommelier if they ever grow up. You can find more of Maggie's work at her website, maggieolsonpoetry.com
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