My body is a battleground

Borrowed the title from a friend’s GTalk picture, but really, it feels so apt! I now actually know what the ground on which battles are fought, feels.

Absorbing all the blood that’s been spilt, sensitive to every vibe in the air (and some that aren’t really there!). Bruised, battered, but resilient in spite of itself. Tired, but unable to rest for the violence it can do nothing about. Shaken, shattered, but needing to put forth that seedling, hold on to the hope of normalcy. Reaching within itself for strength; finding it in the rocks, the pebbles, the gravel, the sand, that are part of it and yet not so. Refusing to let go of itself, for fear of unleashing yet more violence. Holding itself still in the night, needing to recover and recuperate, sleeping and yet conscious of what is yet to come.



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