My Words are a Whisper, My Words are a Howl
By Beth Morey: Beauty from Ashes on June 02, 2014
I bowed down at the altar of should and ought to and don't trust that dissembling soul of yours. I pressed my forehead hard against the prayer rug until the carpet fibers imprinted the skin there into the permanent creases born of a disembodied life lived for everyone else. And then one day I feel something, silver-new and dissonant. . . .