And “so here we are” as my therapist says
to open each session
Her light Swedish lilt soothing me into a liminal state
“And how did that make you feel?”
How did it make me feel?
Well as the weeks went on the knife pierced less flesh
My heart beat 1 bpm slower
each time he appeared somewhere
A mention of his name used to floor me
And now it doesn’t
The fall became a falter became a flutter
One step, in front of the other
Away it went
And he got smaller somehow
He dwindled & diminished
And now I can laugh sometimes at the silliness of being afraid
Of him! Ha ha ha
His tiny knife, from a toolbox of pitiful tricks that only work by sleight of hand
Shit magic that only fools the already wounded
Those of us who walk among you half-made
But we can remake ourselves
Slowly stitch up the parts left fraught & fraying
And I have begun sewing suture
Strong scars across thin skin
Thread thick enough to never come undone.
Josienne Clarke 