Among the Sharpness

I remember a time before this body betrayed me,

before happiness carried a cost,

before the things I loved

left me aching, depleted.

But I do not recall a time

when life wasn’t a battle,

when staying alive

wasn’t the hardest job of all.

There will always be pain and suffering,

but somewhere along the way,

we were sold the idea

that healing meant being whole, being happy.

We must be healed,

and to be healed,

we must do all these things,

things that never quite lead to healing.

I don’t think I will ever know peace

or a life without pain,

but I am learning to make space for lightness,

to carve out softness among the sharpness.

The more I let go of healing,

of perfection,

of being "recovered,"

of the idea of wholeness,

the more I become.