and I am sent back out into the world reeling, unmoored, bereft.
I have a right to be heard.
Women who remain silent are full of poison
and I have for years fumbled through the darkness of my own ignorance.
You left me,
and I will always hunger in this winter pantry of regret
where evocation is entrapment.
When will I once again breathe fully, be holy, be full of light?
What else is there to take from this moment?
And so, I enter the desert.