still

i’ve spent months spinning sentence fragments around in my mind, unable to give weight to the heaviness out there. i’ve been working instead on listening and on writing only to let go. without fear of judgment, yours or my own.  we’ve tucked into each other here, the way the first cooler days  of fall promised we could. i’ve watched the spinach and collard greens reach eagerly for the sun. the potatoes have volunteered from their pile of straw and dirt, unaware of the frosts that are sure to come. i bide my time pulling weeds in between rows of carrots and laughing into my husband’s neck under a pile of blankets. things feel still inside me for the first time in a long while and i’m trying not to let it scare me. i’m worth just as much this way. 

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