The edges

Frayed, rough, hidden.

The edges of who we are live deep within. All along and inside and outside these edges live other women, men, people, their lived experience, their pains and pleasures, their knowing, their secrets.

We may sometimes find ourselves deep in the wondering and wandering who these other people were, who they are, how they live in us. Perhaps we have been hearing their words and voices in our own: the sharpness, the sadness, the wanting. Maybe we have feelt the wails and roars and yearning and pleading. All of them rumbling and stomping and dancing within us as we try to make sense of who we are and what we want and how we are to be in this world.

Are we their happy ending? Are we the end to this long line of disconnecting from our children, our legacies (human or not)? Does the self-hatred and doubt end with us?

Probably not.

Maybe.

Most definitely yes.

All of the above.

The coldness. The frigid. The crispness.

The stoicism. The always in control. The tamed.

How to shake it of…