Where do you go when

resentment, its steely

grip a vise around

your mind, your heart, tells

you you are safe here

protected here, and love,

a brilliant thing, lies

covered, discarded on

the floor?

Battered and bruised, we

keep moving, our feet

upon the bumpy

path. But pick it up

now, put on what was

lost, wear it over one

shoulder and another

so, for the first time,

with eyes open now,

you can see.

—jennifer j. camp