That day my instructor told me
to make art with my mouth.
He said to think of something sacred,
such as a candlelit service.
But I was not thinking of
I thought of the chaos surrounding me,
an endless storm, full of debris and
I was thinking of those nights I
sobbed silently, gasping for breath and
tearing at my hair in the dark.
I was my own downfall,
and I was my own savior.
I taught myself to breathe again
and forced myself to
acknowledge the pain, because
it was the realest, most piercing
thing I’d ever felt.
I found peace in knowing I could
fight back, even though all I wanted
to do was run, or sleep, anything but
I finally fell asleep on those sacred