[NeuroBeautiful]

She is the one who figures it all out in the end
With a cereal box and a hole-punched fork in her hand,
She weaves thread; using ordinary objects she had found

She does what is familiar;
Turning to abandoned places as a sanctuary
She finds joy, beauty, appreciation
and in doing so
She honors and uplifts all that had been otherwise forgotten
She sees otherwise invisible inner strength, hears the otherwise unacknowledged voices
She believes in the inherent value of all living beings.
She believes a better world is possible; Each of us are responsible
She dedicates her time; invests her energy into building relationships
In building respectful community among all creatures of the earth;
people, plants, animals, the land all living in ecological harmony
Understanding that each piece is integral to the whole
That the suffering of one, is the suffering of all
And no one is free so long another is still in chains
She can see the bigger picture
The spirit and potential of every being,
from the inanimate natural world, to every creature big and small

She likes when she is hidden
Going unnoticed, off the radar
As though she does not exist
Lurking memories; of times locked up in a closet
By those who were meant to protect children
Dark and deserted; depleted of resources
Crowded among rows of shoes,
No space to stand upright, forced to hunch over
Caught between clothes on hangers
No place for a human being to survive
Yet somehow she did and is still alive

She learned the language of the shadows
This is what she now speaks
Her eyes have not yet adjusted to the brightness
Her body continues to hunch over, her head hanging low
Her mind and body continue to feel estranged and foreign
Like she is on the sidelines, watching a show

Holding on to hope; that her story isn't yet over
Like a torch leading the way
Coasting through robotically was no longer an option
Her inner fire sustained through
She too has been abandoned and have suffered
She too deserves to be seen and heard and loved
When she was finally released
Bits and pieces of who she is was what she had left
She used the shards of her soul to mark the walls
Thought she left it there and can now move on
The stories follow her around; spills and leaks out
No longer can she contain it; no matter how much
she pushes the closet doors shut
The ghosts of the past are still there, staring her down
How can she return these ghosts back to where they belong?
How can she use the way she nurtures life to help herself?
How can she turn to what she knows best?
How can she put her dark past to rest?