By Carmella de Keyser
I am so grateful for this gift.The more pain you inflict on me, the more I will ripen.
The more ripping, verbose lashes you casually slice into me, the more agony, and the entire suffering I receive,
I will turn into power.
The deeper it cuts, the more I feel,
The further the depth,
The more knowledge I gain.
Each spiteful curse you spit at me, is furnishing my heart into a febrile furnace.
I note your smug gluttony is temporarily satiated to see my blood dripping,
But each dark drop I am slowly transforming into cascades of shimmering white water that I pour into the ones and things I love.
What I can do is greater than alchemy,
I don’t sit in tears, I treat them with dignity.
I don’t turn my face away,
I turn pain into power.
After the bed is unmade, I adorn it with cushions, fashioned with irises, chrysanthemums, gladiolas, lotuses.
This is my serendipitous home and I am grateful.
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