Broken Open

Knives in my back.

Day after day.

I feel their weight.

I know they’re there.

But I feel no pain.

I am numb.

I learned not to pull.

I dare not pull.

But,

They just became too heavy.

I could no longer bear their weight.

So, I pulled.

Gently, at first.

Then, harder.

Then, so hard I could barely breathe.

It hurt.

I screamed.

I cried.

I bled.

I felt,

The pain.

So much pain.

But, I couldn’t stop.

There was no turning back.

Because, in breaking through,

I discovered,

Under the darkness,

There was so much light.

For, in facing the pain,

There was an opening,

For wings to grow.

Where there was pain,

There was healing.

Where there were knives,

There were wings.

If I hadn’t faced the pain,

If I hadn’t been broken open,

I wouldn’t have known I had wings.

I wouldn’t have known I could fly.