I know you thought you could keep me down.
How does it feel now—knowing you couldn’t?
Your cruel words, caustic criticisms and shocking betrayals
Slip through my fingertips like flower petals.
I throw them to the full moon, an offering of fire—
I wish I could forget you,
Bury the bad memories like seeds
And rinse myself clean of you.
I can’t—I can’t forget you.
But you know what?
I can cleanse my wounds
And weed out the suffocating grief that’s still living inside me.
So, I dig deep in my heart,
Rip open my chest,
And extract the pain you planted
I place each throbbing thorn,
Each shattering insult, onto the wet, moon-soaked grass
And water the tender roots, of these bitter memories, with my sopping tears.
The most beautiful blossoms come from suffering—
Did you know that?
So I blossom,
It hurts like hell.
Starlight glistens in my throat,
As I release—release,
Release it all.
The crisp breeze kisses my tear-stained cheeks, and I wonder—
Will I ever forget you?
Maybe I will never, ever forget
How you shoved me down in the dirt
And told me to dull my light.
But I will always remember that I rose from the dirt,
Stronger than ever.
I will always remember finding a single seed of courage
And walking away from you.
You never saw my strength, did you?
You never saw me.
All you saw was your own fear,
Your own stale bitterness,
Your own tired jealousy.
I will never thank you for treating me like sh*t,
But I am glad you knocked me down
Because I rose—
From the dirt
Stronger than ever,
Wiser than ever
With a fierce look in my eyes,
An unstoppable knowing in my heart
And a raw cry in my soul
And it won’t.
Because when I rose from the depths of hell,
My tears turned to rubies,
And I found something you tried so hard to shatter—
I found me.
**Author’s note: This is not my most polite piece, but healing isn’t always polite—or pretty. I believe that sometimes, we just gotta get down and dirty and express the anger, pain and darkness stored within our hearts. This piece is a reminder, that despite the intense shame and guilt often associated with voicing “yucky” feelings—yeah, I pretty much want to hide under the covers and yell at myself for days after writing this poem—unearthing this tough stuff is really only the way to transform our pain and soothe our souls. We’ve got to express our sh*t to become our fully awesome selves. It is my heartfelt hope that these words offer something not so polite—but something powerful.
The Pain you Carry is not a Burden.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Photo: Flickr/Ms. Phoenix
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