Nobody will tell you
How much it hurts at first
And then keeps on hurting
Until you are amazed
That this is how much you can bear;
Nobody will tell you
How hard it will be to speak
As if every topic under the sun
Could be spoken of but that one
How it will hang like a stone in behind your unfamiliar breasts;
Nobody tells you how the years fly by
When you live inside your own head
And how each and every misplaced joke
And every laugh will cut you
With the ease of a sharpened bread knife;
Nobody will tell you
That the last time you will be loved
As you yearn to be loved
Is when you are held in your mother’s arms
Over Christmas break
And nobody will tell you
That you’re the one who has to love now;
Nobody will tell you
How surprised you will be
At how strong you will be one day
When all this is over
But not really
And how a butterfly hatching from a caterpillar
Couldn’t compare to faith can hatch from a human mind;
Because if anyone had told you
Then you wouldn’t have done it at all
Linda Rhinehart, 31, is an editor and amateur writer and poet who has lived in the United States, Wales and Switzerland. She enjoys cats.