Poetry by Erica Leal

There will come a time 

when every last word 

no longer feels important. 

When the chaos of standing still 

is worse than the unknown that awaits.

And so you live, replenishing the 

light in your soul with the passing of 

Time, 

such a fickle thing, who once 

brought you pain now brings clarity.

For, there is beauty in the unknown.

In new faces and friends and adventures.

And in opening your heart, a joy, long buried, 

is finally excavated from the archives.

“You look happier,” they say

and my heart swells with pride, for

my happiness never left, but now 

it has no reason to hide. 

Flowers bloom from my veins, 

filling the long empty vase.

Unafraid to take up space,

unwilling to wilt and bend,

they flourish alongside me.

A spark reignited from the 

ashes of a burning city.

And when I look at myself, 

truly examine the woman I see,

she is radiant in every sense of the word,

far beyond any vision they had of me.

She dances in the rain and wishes

on every star, leading with love 

and embracing every scar.

There was once so much to say,

but now her words were few. 

for she had since learned not

to hand her poetry to the boys

who could not read–or rather, 

who simply chose not to.