I sat on the lumpy edge of my bed this morning hair twisted into a towel clothes for the day in a gray and blue pile tired. so tired. too tired to prevent the thought “my heart is breaking. dying would be such a relief.” understand today is no different than yesterday when I had no such thought its just today the mask slipped my stoic stance wobbled but…. compared to so many women in the world my life is easy oy! so, now I’m piling guilt and shaming on top of brokenheartedness why must I prove my right to be brokenhearted? why can’t I let the world see when I’m unsure? what if - for just one day - I stepped out of my stoicism? what if I simply lay down and let the leaves cover me? would that make me a failure? and what if I laid it down for more than a day? what if I surrendered? would that make me a disappointment? and what if I let the smiling mask fall? what then? what if the face I turned to yours was a face full of grief? perhaps even a face etched with despair a face disillusioned and unsure what then? because, today, that is what is written on my face. carved deeply in the lines around my useless-feeling mouth. engraved around my welling eyes. bearing down on my bowed head. a lifetime of holding up when all I wanted was to let go what happens when that’s the face I show you? what then?
© 2017 Tracie Nichols
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