...and a shot cut through to the deepest scar...
...my right fingertips clawed more out, and in the same far-reaching motion, they distributed it outward. My left hand needed to help hold the moving claw. And like a fork-lift, my right hand dumped the pile of darkness out while my left hand provided a pillow for my tear-filled cheeks...
...I kissed my knee cap. I kissed my hand upon my knee and then rested my tearful cheek on the back of my hand...
I hugged myself and rocked side-to-side.
...I pushed myself back onto my own two feet, and with the strength acquired in my shoulder girdle, I braced myself while growing to standing...
...my left palm open and my right guarding my heart...but with time, as terrifying as it was, I opened both hands, offered two open palms and later, with arms open and chest lifted, I started to take the first steps forward. ...
