Sometimes I wish I could crawl within the interior of the pages of those who comfort me. To have the pages of Maya Angelou blanket me with strength. To honor my experiences with Sylvia Plath, to hold her hand and our strength together be enough to save us both. To rediscover nature walking in stride with Mary Oliver. Sometimes I wish I would become the page, the folded crane of the words of the women who had the strength to open their hearts like the pages of book, to open up and let me in as a lost child and build me up as a woman who honors all of my experiences as a triumphant memory. -MNH
hold me like the ground is falling to pieces
like my body is sinking, slowly slipping
and you are afraid to lose me-
seek me from my solitude,
as though every life line you might find,
every light in every tunnel disappeared
and you were left blind without me.
show me something more than words.
because i will not walk towards you,
until i know for certain you will stay.
— Sylvia Plath
I have been treating you
like the bandage
when you might actually
be the wound.
Don’t talk to me about love if you don’t know what it is like to be broken,
Glue the wings onto spines of the million butterflies,
On hard wood floors,
In the basements of empty homes,
Echoing with the hopes of what could have been,
Don’t talk to me about love if you don’t know what it is like to be broken