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It Isn't Always Pretty | A Poem About Healing


Samantha Nagel

My house is not an echo chamber for the wind

My lungs are not rose beds

My rib cage has no birds in it.

There are no flowers on my windowsill

The sunlight doesn’t radiate into my soul

And the night sky never whispers.

I have never resurrected the bones

Of the wolves who used to hunt here

I have never been immersed in the scolding cauldron that is my lovers arms

I have never cast a love spell at midnight

Hands up towards the sky


blessed be.

I have never prayed for forgiveness until my knees grew red

Never forgave another until my heart grew larger

Never bathed in a river in the moonlight

Never cried so hard I saw stars behind my eyelids