Belly of the Valley
<p>Hope is a rope cast into the past from a person we are not to be yet living in a place we have not yet known. We heave ourselves through great big storms, only to find our rope of hope wrapped around our ankle, dragging us farther and farther away from ourselves. There is nowhere to go but back to the place where you hoped you could go anywhere but that place. Anywhere but here.</p>
<p>Between my breasts is a chasm that deepens every time I resurface from a memory, a fantasy, a dream. Great gullies of dried up sorrow swallow any light in the place where the two hills rise and fall, begin and end. Sunshine does not reach the great empty belly of the valley where my heart lies.</p>
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