The Phoenix Leaf

Childhood, Mental Health, Other Poetry, Parenting Add comments


The Phoenix Leaf


Which part is dying?

Which should I keep buried?

And for how long?


Is it true

what she said

in that office?

Its windows

Too high to reach comfortably.


With a baby nestled

Into my chest

I told the truth about my pain.


She confirmed it was needed;

That to lose it

Would unravel the whole.

As if under the shroud

I am nothing:

I only burn bright

Due to my incandescent rage.


When it takes me

It’s part of the plan:


Look how beautifully we merge.


The Phoenix Leaf

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