Palms upward as hands face sky 
open spaces between fingers relaxing
into what has been a time of gentle 
and harsh scrubbing of the heart. 
Every inch of skin Brillo pad raw. 
An exfoliation of what has been. 
My fists, no longer clenched 
in tight survival, trust in slow unfurling.
Pain tingling as blood returns to fingertips.
Learning feet reground my trunk 
to an upright position, toes rooted 
past sand into bedrock. Freeing now
agile hands to sift through the helpful lessons 
caught in my soft palms as promises
while unneeded thoughts fall through finger spaces
to join other decomposing conversations 
of days when I didn't know listening.
Composting the no longer serviceable
into nutrients for the new words to come.

© Ali Grimshaw 2021