Strength and weakness are not mutually exclusive; instead they are two sides of the same life. To proclaim the latter is not to dispel the former. Weakness is the banner I wave for surviving unrelenting bludgeoning; a testament to the ferocity of forces against me; the dying I breathe in so I can be here. Now.
Somewhere in between these four walls, I lost the ability to see myself in other people. Severed, too, became the tendon leading others to me.
In the wound of absence, alone year after year, trails of endeavor have morphed into placeholders. They gather and congregate, persistent in the way I wish people are used to know had been.