Dry paths, from pooling traumas

I arrived a screeching terror of crimson smeared flesh
screams to voice fury in displacement’s misery
I could afford to be loud back then,

hurried to grow tall and breath adulthoods empowering air
to find bodyline curves equated to narrow expectations
from those with archaic perspectives,
still avenues sprouted, painfully marked out by sisters
that never shirked suffering
to inch progress one smashed barricade at a time;

as birds sang for me and petals strutted to catch my eye
horror came to greet:
black inking of my clothing bled its darkness deep within me,
memory’s skyscrapers flatlined within momentary flashes
eardrums suffocated to silence by obscene explosions
eyes lost to realms beyond existence, morphing to choking waterfalls.

Blessedly, maybe? Part of the few stepping over pools of my crimson kin
to crossover and be rebirthed, once more displaced
only now without naivety’s screams,

innocence’s entitlement replaced: with a survivor’s steely defiance!