your voice falls

your voice falls
over me
like honey
from a spoon
held high enough
to slip down 
to cover
to soothe 
to calm
me

I breathe
again
for the first time
not realizing
I had held my breath
for years

breath comes
dressed in laughter
in tears
in healing
in freedom

an unintended gift
perhaps
not understood
it does not matter
now that the cage door
is open
I stretch beyond
what I bowed to
and gather 
torn pieces
in my arms
ready
to
fly

~

6/100

Published by Leigh-Anne Fraser

writer, poet, photographer, artist, illustrator, knitter,friend and fine pancake flipper

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