Free

My eyes are framed by tiny lines that sing my story, each one with a verse of their own. Painted nails on calloused hands. Stained lips toil to speak truth. My back burdened with gratitude. I carry only the weight of my children. Scars hidden and scars revealed. Every perfect imperfection proclaims validity. I laugh and I scream. I pray and I dream. I am as innocent as I am guilty and as captive as I am free.

There is no place I would rather be.