And still, the woman, the soft fire woman grows till tall, till broken, till strong. She clasped her hands and screamed to God and prayed that the sun remain; even if it burned her, even if it burned you, even if it melted the shadow from our bones. She prayed you the summer, breathed you in like solace (you, with your scar tissue body). But still, you outgrew her in you sleep without enough language to thank her.
This, is what the sun won’t tell you about her body and all the things it carried.

In “The Things It Carried” the self migrates through what the body holds, the changes, the trauma, the identities. It follows the metaphysical body as it finds, interacts and forms with all the other parts of itself. It is a self-portrait of an existence being formed.

It is a portrait of a body in process. It is peeled back body, unreleased body, dissipated body, healing body, courier body, forming body.