I heard the story of a man
born with chord
cutting in to flesh
couldn’t cry
his first breath: a miscarriage
his first memory: fight
How can you trust a world that
strangles you
when being
when just
born?
He didn’t.
He built a comfortable life
played only with toys
that moved at his will.
I emerged with my arms spread.
I’ve lived long enough to learn
trauma isn’t always blunt
nor bad.
Born in open beauty,
I began
in love.