Somewhere, Quietly

        Somewhere, quietly, I'm by myself, torn between engaging and isolating. Somewhere, slowly, I'm taking in the day, the busy day that sought to crush me. Somewhere, fully, I'm looking again at what could be salvaged, what shouldn't, and how to grow despite the pressing that nearly flattened me; for I am coal that holds potential. 

         I look up, look around, praying while remembering that I'm not destroyed, that this isn't all there is. Here I stand among another busy part of life again, wondering, praying, how a diamond can come from the pressing this coal has endured; for I'm tired of the pressing. 

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