I always come back to me,
ready now to face the same old
tender places,
to let this self slip again
into the salacious secrets
of my solitude.
Hush, little Lydia,
don’t you cry.
Let the silence sing you a lullaby.
Unfold your heart from the
origami of your origins.
And wrap your mind in the wondering
of your wordless womb.
Taste the salty stillness
as it tip toes across your tongue.
Feel what once was fire
before it fizzled
out.