I close my eyes
and imagine Sedona,
the red rocks warming me from afar
the vortex sucking me in,
my soul my skin aflame in that
red safety net.
Don’t you know?
That home in the stars
once shielded me,
shielded you,
from him, from the smell of alcohol on his breath,
from the love that was never enough.
A woman, now, grown
Wings
no longer clipped
Shield
no longer gripped
like a vice.
I put down the armor,
bruised from overuse.
Do you see me now?
Taylor Stoneman is an attorney by trade, but a poet by heart. She currently resides in San Francisco and is exploring the overlapping layers between her past and present.