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letra de have you ever seen a woman heal? - catie trainor

have you ever seen a woman heal?
you can’t miss it when you do
she’ll radiate belonging through every room she walks into
kind eyes and shoulders squared, sitting down at every table like she means it
like she has a place there
look me in the soul, lover, i’ll take us to the lights
there will be no damsel in distress here
a golden radiance pours through the door frame you stand in
step into this
whatever comes next, you have trained your whole life for it
you have a library in your mind to last you ten lifetimes
and a dreamy surf town to thank for your magic, so there you will find her
ankle bones being kissed by the ocean, soft smoke drifting up to the cosmos
mapping her coordinates, her poems calling out to the waves
california, i’ve changed
i relate to my skin in the sense that we both refuse to let go of your warmth
and my mind doesn’t mimic the way your waves break anymore
now, to your sea i shall always return
and please listen carefully because what comes next is important
i have collected the lost memories of my life
the shattered clock faces, the razored edges
a movie ticket traded for innocence, petals seared off a daisy for another’s enjoyment
i brought the images in my arms and kissed every single one of them goodnight
what a gentle rebellion relentless compassion is, for i’ve softened every chapter of my life
my fingers gather ache as they trace over jawline whispering, “thank you, body; it is time to relax now”
but i understand you appear with intention
i wrap the young girl i once was in the unconditional love of a mother’s protection
i whispered, “i know
i wish i could have been there as i am now but i wasn’t, we just didn’t know how
and i know you can never replace what was stolen, but just know that i love you
and it is safe to come home now
there are honey-drenched days ahead of you that i promise you don’t want to miss”
picture this:
girl dreams scorpio, girl dreams violets, girl cuts up her hands picking her soul off the ground, but then builds a cathedral in spite of it
this is an ode to sleeping in on sundays, to waking up in the same position you fell asleep in, and the kind of rest that reaches the soul
this is an ode to the safety that radiates off of my skin, to last week when my coworker put her hand on my shoulder and it didn’t make me flinch
so here’s to the return of singing in the car, of singing in the shower, dancing to the music aisle nine of the grocery store and the sparkling eyes of the people who caught it
if the lovers leave, let them leave
you get to keep the art
your poems will be the time capsule to the sunlight on her face that day, now repeat after me with your heart:
“they could never, because they were never meant, to stay”
so here’s to every eyelash that doesn’t wish the dawn away, what i’m trying to say is
i have found the potion for a million different heartaches, and a hundred orange popsicle sticky sweet, sweet, sweet, baby-come-kiss-me summer days
and while planting gardens of forgiveness for myself, i stumbled upon grace
the tectonic plates under my skin are roaring to life with new movement
the form in which my body inhabits this place is starting to feel like it’s adequate
the cup inside of my heart has begun to tip from all the abundance that fills it
and i have a glorious notion that i will soon overflow with its contents
this changing transcends what the eye is able to see, i am starting to believe these shaky hands of mine might be worthy of stillness
that this heart might be trusted with the raising of children
how am i ever supposed to put into words what i am feeling?
this is me healing, and i think it is true that god is a woman
after all, which is greater, the creator or the creation?
the holy within our hips gives lives to entire countries
no wonder every spell calls for our blood, mystics knows it holds dynasties
so just put me on a stage and watch me transcend
if you take the trauma out of me, all that’s left is the ocean
i want to share the part of me that aligns with the sun
within one thousand different lifetimes, i have lived through the literature
i have slowly been learning to love
so as the aching sadness takes its final deep breath, and exhales the darkness inside
let it be known that i am giving the shame back, for it was never mine
and i will forgive myself for who i had to be in order to survive
so let this body be a palace, holy still with broken windows
i am convinced a poet’s heart is strongest on its third resuscitation
and when grace enters your body, you will know exactly when it happens
tiny mountains will rise from the earth of your skin
each eye window will collect a small ocean
when grace enters your body, you will know when it happens
let me explain
i am now a balloon expanded at the highest ceiling of the party
the galaxies welcome me home
i feel an all-encompassing stillness inside
all ocean, no tide
my poems, a porch light
a luminescent glow after a long drive home that whispers, “welcome back, we are so glad that you have made it safely”
the gentle moments of my life return to me
overwhelming beauty
and for the first time in my life, in this skin, in this body, here is exactly where i want to be
the finest silk runs through my veins now, i’ve watched the shimmer return to the strands of my ponytail
i rewrote my scars into scripture, carved a life out of literature
my soul has found a center inside of itself
and while sitting in the airport terminal, waiting to board the plane, i am overcome with a sense of having already arrived
i’ve heard it said that happy is a kind of holy when held up to the light
and i think they were right

- catie trainor

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