Hurt

I will sit with this hurt

I will pour it a drink

But I won’t get drunk

I turn it over

I observe it

I remind it

That I walked in here

And I will walk out

—

I clean my hands

I leave the table

I have to move forward

I have to stay in the race

This is temporary

Life is too short

To get hung up

By hurt

This shadow of myself

It’s part of me

But it does not define me…

Soon it will be in the past

It will not be grey

It will not be overcast

It will just be another day

In the year

I will do the work

I will grow

And I will leave the table

Being better for it.