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Child of Ash

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When I lay in bed and wonder what brought me to now I fill up. I have so much sadness in me and so much joy. Wonder fills me next to anger. How strange that is. Sometimes with these thoughts I start to feel very sad. I think myself alone. Without a soul to speak to, to share my burdens that digs my feet into the ground beneath. Until the stone ebbs and my bones crack with the effort. Tears come that I thought I was too strong to have. Yet there you are. All at once with eyes alight with something I still don’t understand. You help with my burdens. You sit and listen and speak words that I have wished to hear for so long. And now as I lay awake, waiting for sleep to take me, I don’t feel so alone. I no longer feel like a pillar of glass, ready to shatter with the simplest tap. But I am no longer stone either. Stone is too hard, too unfeeling for me any longer. I know understand people…at least to an extent. I have learned to be kind and gentle. I am a new person, a being born of ash. Who ever knew that something so dead could make me feel so alive?



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