Every war

takes a bit of life out of me.

I came back,

but never as the same person.

My intestines

are a burial ground for my grief.

Sleep evades me.

I am the hunted,

all these years later.

I survived war,

but the mirror

erased my reflection..

There are no medals on my chest,

just fragments

of the bullet he left behind.

There is no beginning or end when it comes to matters of the heart. Everything ties together, as the roots are just as much a part of a tree as its branches.

I lost myself for awhile in love. It’s easy to forget who you are when you’re constantly trying to mold yourself into a different shape.

But healing is never easy. You can’t break off a branch and expect it to be the same when it grows back.

Some days I feel more whole than broken, while other days I feel more broken than whole. Life is never predictable, even when I try to control it – no one can walk forward with their feet tied to a chain.

The wind has a way of creating ripples in my life – patterns of waves that either tether or teach me how to ride out the storm. Sometimes I swim, and sometimes I drown, but I always survive.