I Became the Miracle in the Absence of the One I Wanted
My winter is a clear sky.
A clearing.
A deep breath.
A reminder to the body.
If you can see your breathing
painted across the sky.
Then you can see the miracle that
is your survival.
The trees have shook themselves
to the ground.
An exercise in letting go,
to grow
sturdier.
We break when the weight
stays up/on us.
A reminder to the heart.
A rehearsal in readying.
Knowing life is a storm,
with its eye on you.
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Julia Mallory
Julia Mallory is Black, alive, and somewhere trying to stay warm.
