Homo sapiens

We are anxious creatures.
Full of expectations of ourselves
and of others.

No one tells you
that for every day you weave flowers into your hair
there will be one you draw the bath
extra hot
to scorch the day from your skin.

The knots in your stomach
and in your shoulders
will compete for dominance
even as your feet glide freely over cool morning concrete
and your lungs expand into the sacred space
of your chest.
Your courageous wings will flap angrily against the weight
of your own insecurities
and you will be stretched thin
between the earth
and the sky.

And you will breathe.
And you will crumble.

And you will breathe.
And you will rise.

No one tells you
the most heinous battles are not fought between countries
or religions,
but rather inside of yourself.
Every part of you will be a rogue soldier
fighting for his own cause
and you will burn down whole villages
built from your bones.

And your skin
will cover it all.

You will carry that skin
with every ounce of bravery you can muster
and for every day that it is a crushing stone,
there will be one in which it is a cape
with super powers.

And you will breathe.

No one tells you

that breathing is enough.