Resilience
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
And remember that you exist.
Remember that you have been here before,
a different taste, a different flavor
that coats your tired tongue,
but you have been here before.
You were strong enough
to do this once.
Now the only thing left
is to remember how to do it again–
You know you can.
You know you must.
Breathe and recall
how you pick yourself up,
how your skin cuts like broken glass,
how you stitch yourself back together–
–What it feels like to fall.
To trip, to skin your knees,
to look up and see
that another person made this happen.
They designed themselves to hurt.
They wanted to, and then they did.
They hurt you.
The ground is hard,
The dirt is ugly.
There are worms down here, and pill bugs
You seemed, just then, to be one with the rot of the Earth.
A scathing look crashes down upon your head, so you keep it low.
“I promise I am not looking. I promise I am no challenge.”
The grass looks like a forest, and you idly wonder
What it’s like to be tall.
You remember the words
“I am weaker than I thought I was”
Coming out of your own mouth–
Betraying your own body–
How did it feel, to knowingly hurt yourself?
Remember that you exist.
Remember that you have fallen.
Remember that, usually, you are taller,
That someone had to strike you
To make you fall.
This was not a choice you made,
nor an action you took.
You were not made to be strong.
You were not made to be pleasing.
You were not made to be struck.
They should not have struck you.
Breathe.
Breathe again.
Once more.
Keep doing it.
Keep breathing.
Make the choice.
And again.
Breathe.
Getting up comes later.
Right now you shouldn’t worry
About things like that.
First, you know that you must
Let yourself wallow
and make yourself mourn.
First, you have to lie on the floor,
and remember
that you deserve to exist.
First, you must make yourself breathe.
Current Issue 2026 