3/1/98
You spill into me
And leave all traces of what came before
For me to carry around
Till I burst
I carry all your history with mine
On my hips
To keep me from opening up
I opened up to you so I could close down
I carry your disease, your hurt, with me every day
It fills me till I am swollen
And can barely walk forward
My feet so heavy treading on the ground
How do I cleanse myself of this dirt
How do I clear it all
And how do I accept that I invited you in
Instead of letting you flow through me
I held you to me like a trophy
I was shown that being a receptacle was my job, my task
When the beauty is to let it go, to let it go right through me and give it up forever
Erin Shannon 1998