by nayyirah waheed (therapy) from Salt, a collection of poetry

The hard season
will
split you through
do not worry
you will bleed water
do not worry
this is grief
your face will fall out and down your skin
and
there will be scorching
but do not worry
keep speaking the years from their hiding places.
keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you
have died.
keep the rage tender.
because the soft season will come.
it will come
loud
ready
gulping
both hands in your chest
up all night.
up all of the nights.
to drink all damage into love.