Nobody warned you that the women whose feet you cut from running would give birth to daughters with wings.
my heart aches for the sisters more than anything it aches for women helping women like flowers ache for spring
I did not beg him to stay because I was begging God that he would not leave
the unfortunate thing about healing is this: it convinces you that the pain is better than a scab.
Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful- Rita Dove