I liked the way the pain was numbed,
as though an anaesthetist injected me,
cruel jab to be kind,
no feelings of any style,
was it easier to not feel those emotions of old,
none to be felt, seen, or held?
I became empty,
days monotonous, nothing to look forward to,
that become pain in itself,
the knowing that the unknowing promised all the much
the same,
nothing forthcoming,
no southerly, northerly direction,
east and west hadn’t heard of me either.
Memories would be brought back in excruciating and extracted style,
reminiscing upon the joys with emotions of sorrow and hurt,
devastation and longing,
but the truth is,
there was nothing to salvage from that path, that view.
Once so empty,
now feeling so full,
my heart swells,
it blossoms,
my path here was arduous but I made it,
a tentative shaky-cornered smile appears,
and I’m suddenly feeling so blessed to have made it through
the storm and the cyclones and the hurricanes,
and everything that the gods could have thrown at me,
this moment I righteously own.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Virgil Cayasa on Unsplash
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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