Sarah Hurwitz!

s e l e c t e d p o e m s




I used to carry my past with me like a crumpled piece of paper. A tight ball of shame and regret inside my pocket. I relived my darkest moments day after day.

I scribbled new traumas down.

With the weight of my vices strapped to my back

I tried to move forward

without letting go.

I left home broken and frail, my cracks exposed

despite layers and layers of fake smiles and feigned light-heartedness.

I left in a desperate attempt not to fill them in, but to fall in love

with the way they paint my body.

From far away,

I look like a spot on a map that is covered in rivers.