Ash and Gardens Jessica Sorya She asks me, “What did I want at nineteenthat I have now?”I answer, “Nothing. Everything I wanted is gone.”Every man I pedestaled, fell.toppled over, head heavy.Bless ‘em.Cowards.I’ve always been surrounded by womenscurrying,cleaning dirt from their nails,scrubbing blood from tile,handling shitwhen shit needed handling.They stitched silence into their spines,only let loosewhen the liquor was heavy.You should have seen them,the men, watchingas they carried entire familieswithout flinching.They’d bend,but would not break,even when the weightwasn’t theirs to carry.And me?I studied.Took notes.Learned to smile through clenched jaw,mastered lovewithout needing return.I’m no longer building altars for ghosts,fighting battleswhile worshipping control.Quieting my voiceto keep another’s strong.I’m no longer burning myselfto keep their ego warm.Let them fall.I come from women who rise,carrying handfuls of ash,sifted through calloused fingersand still.Even still.After everything has gone,We plant gardensand sow songs

More from Jessica Sorya ↓

• @jessicalynnvision on Instagram
• Her book, Pinch, Breathe, Burn, is out soon

You can listen to me read another poem by Jessica over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure

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