This is a poem I wrote earlier this summer, but I thought in honor of all of the awesome recovery work that everyone here is doing (everyone!), I thought I would share this now.

Ode to the Cul-de-Sac

I lose weight
and a part of myself.
Where do we all go?
Living in a house of cards-
aces and spades and diamonds and clubs-
built in a wind tunnel,
a house destined to collapse.
Us victims move into
tents set up by the Red Corss.
Finding each other,
we find ourselves.
New building codes to withstand the Big Bad Wolf,
use bricks, not cards;
people made of substance,
not starved, lost souls.
My ethereal self floats,
light as a feather,
finding the person to whom it once belonged.