The tall, fluid beauty of the body.
Warm voice, kind smile, pure heart,
And a gaze that found the "yes" within.
The addiction to being wanted and worthy.
The slash of words that shredded hope.
Alone, the heart retreats and disappears,
into the quiet dissociation afterwards,
laying on the sofa, still and staring.
A song, from the past, parts the sepulcher's stone.
Uninvited, emotions suddenly arise from the dead.
“We were you before you buried us from yourself."
This is who you are: the passion and the pain.
A puzzle made of incomplete and imperfect parts--
a reunion of all that had been broken and not enough--
until the fabric of the soul is restored again from holes.
The miracle of being authentic with oneself.
Alice W. Lee