There are screams inside.
in my bones…secured by
sinew so they don’t sidle out and terrify me.
But, I know they’re there.
Every time I open my throat to let truth fly
they rush for the opening –
single-mindedly seeking escape.
So, I close off truth,
and they retreat back to my marrow…and gnaw.
Some of my bones whistle now…there are so many holes.
I’m a bone-flute woman.
I moan when the wind blows.
But, I keep those screams trapped.
I’ll disappear keeping those screams tucked away.
They can never come out.
Without them I’m not sure
there would be any
substance to me. I might sift quietly
into a gray and blurry pile
if the screams tear themselves away.
They’ve been there
so long I don’t know the shape of me
I’m afraid to…
Not that I’ll be hideous…no,
I know that shape well.
No…I’m afraid my shape is Boudica
strong and beautiful. Then
I’ll have to face the
that I’ve lived as hideous
when I could have lived
as beauty and strength.
© 2014 Tracie Nichols