Litany

I caught a glimpse of my reflection –

grey and wet,

wavering in a puddle at my feet.

My limbs are carnival glass extended,

reaching for the edges of my shadow,

hanging from the summit of

Mount Reflection,

Mount Brooding,

Mount Who the Fuck Am I Today?

I’m ankle deep in pine needles.

They scratch little red lines in my skin

and sing little litanies in my therapist’s baritone:

“I feel loved and respected when you…”

“I say I love you when I…”

“I feel loved and respected when you…”

“I say I love you when I…”

I am tip-toe walking around the site of the explosion.

I keep getting the heels of my boots caught in the muck

and it pulls pain like lightning bolts through my calves.

It knocks me to my knees

and I’m face-to-face with my reflection again,

lip singing silently:

“I feel loved and respected when you…”

Listen, listen, listen.

“I say I love you when I…”

Sing, sing, sing.

© Laura A. Lord, 2020

Thank you to MindLoveMisery for the prompt.