‘Stories’ - A Poem

My parents used to read me stories

before bed, a cup of milk warmed

for one minute in the microwave and tales

of elephant families that I knew every line to,

I think, though, that I took for granted

when I was younger, the power in my expression,

the way that I can mould my body into the shape

of a story, twist my voice to mirror an emotion,

that there are a whole range of emotions, other than just sad

or happy, and I have lived them now,

I have lived the rejection, the depression, the magic,

the broken bones and recreating yourself entirely

after the person you loved enough to trust with every fibre of you

runs away and leaves you fractured at your core,

I understand now how actors only ripen with age,

how each experience is another word

in your vocabulary, each tear another droplet

filling your cup of empathy, each hole in your favourite jumper a story

of heartbreak, and I have only scratched the surface,

I think, I used to be scared of feeling

anything I hadn’t turned inside out and inspected

every inch of, now, I want to break open,

I’m scared, still, but i believe in it now,

I see the power in it now,

I see how women wearing their truths

have inspired girls like me to bear their own

how these tragedies unite us,

and how in a world that tells us to sit still, look pretty,

that tears us down

and pins us against each other,

the bravest thing we can do

is share our stories.