Musings of a Divorcee

So much emotion welled up behind those almond eyes, nictitating membranes

Held tight in the jaw, 

Behind those full firm lips

The long fingers and aging hands

Held in her dignified gait

In her locs

Only masked by her adornment, a well packaged present

… or bomb in disguise

But rabid insides, tearing at the seams of her 

Desiring freedom, to be seen 

Felt, answered, reckonned with

And, oh, the reckoning that would come

After all the years…

Silenced, muffled, emotions clipped at the wings

Held hostage in her body, knowing no light

I mean, what would it even feel like to be free of all that weight?

She’d never really been free, light, weightless

She’d always carried her own pain, joy and all what lay in between and that of others along the way. 

So I imagine it’d be a strange sensation for her to let it go, drop it, discard it, shed it, free it

Shit, feel it…

and something for the ones around her

to witness 

What would be possible for her to achieve, given all that she had accomplished already with all that weight?

A woman never asking for what she needed, not fully feeling all the good and bad of her life… 

Dayum, her lightness, brightness, and brilliance would be something to behold 

But the before, the releasing, the transforming of all that emotion…

Explosive