I’m still a little shaky,
tripping over uneven concrete and pretending I saw it coming.
Brush the dirt from bruised knees,
laugh it off. Drink something to make
it go away.
Maybe it’s okay to not always see it coming.
I’m learning to stick the landing.
Everyone wobbles in the beginning.
Or hits face first.
Still, I’m learning how to be
okay with the crashing. How to find my gripping
even if my hands are a little bloody.
Sometimes I still fall,
maybe I always will.
I think, this time, I am falling with grace.
Muscles are built by first breaking them
I am rebuilding. I have stopped referring to myself as a storm,
too seasick to keep rocking.
Here, there is strength growing,
I can feel it. I can see the horizon.