I pick up the broken pieces,
the pain, wound, insults,
lies, betrayal, scars,
your words.
I eat my tears, silent,
don’t have an answer,
so I call my heart,
Ask if I am such a bad person?
Do I deserve the thrust of your mistrust?
I asked my heart,
Do you know me?
Is it you who understands me in this world?
Do you know the woman who breathes in me?
My heart’s eyes fill, tears,
and I hear the voice of her breath.
She looked into my eyes and said,
“Forgive yourself. You are the daughter of love,
The voice of love and passion.
You are the arms of tolerance.
You walk over the ignorance bridge,
talk on behalf of absent voices.
I know you,
understand you well in this world.
Remember that never will anybody else.”
I understand the woman who breathes in me.
“You deserve love,” she says.
“I know that you are dear.”

By N.

This work was supported by the Fetzer Institute.