In the wreckage of my heart can I open anyway? In the disaster land of the aftermath of choices can I open anyway? In the rubble of decimated villages ravaged tribes pillaged body can I open anyway? Lying on the ground bleeding from takers conquering can I open anyway? Can I open to be torn … Continue reading To Be Torn Open
Vultures pick the wounds clean. Clarity comes through whispering trees. I am still, and listening. Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi Art: Stillness by Joyce Huntington.