I’m broken:

but my wings are not clipped

I’m a witness to my humanity

and I own it

I can’t run like the old days

but that doesn’t mean I can’t jog

I finally feel human

the continuous struggle adjacent to the habitual strive

I get it! I’m human

and I own it

my soul has been broken

my voice has been stolen

my tears flow continuously

my eye bear witness to my humanity

I speak with a pen

until the day my voice is needed

with every step, I enter into a battle

equipped to with the spirit of a fighter

I am fighting a human race

I often wake up to yesterday

from a dream about tomorrow

I feel and know

my brokenness

Broken enough to survive

Broken enough to pray

Broken enough to smile

Broken enough to strive for healing

To be planted in the dirt

To be watered as I am the seed

and like dust, the poet said “I rise”

To challenge history and gain authority

to know that the only way up, is down

the only way to come on top is to own one’s own brokenness

Young Man, Young Woman

no true soul conquers their journey from the top

that soul goes low

and then it is high.