a poem
I come from a long line
of expert fire swallowers:
lips blistered,
bottled necks scalded;
throats seared
by the unexpressed.
What’s the trick?
Turns out there is no trick,
just enduring pain.
I refuse to get good at it.
If my writing moved you, please click the clapping symbol below (the more you click, the more you clap), share with others, or FOLLOW me here on Medium…
Thank you!
Mary