& though she isn’t ready,

she will pick up the pieces

and place them back together 

delicately 

too afraid that they will

shatter under a mighty grip 

again. 

& though she isn’t ready, 

she will stack the books 

to the ceiling 

towering 

if it means 

that she can escape 

to somewhere else. 

& though she isn’t ready, 

the words will appear

like scars on skin 

etched 

and unforgettable 

and too loud for anyone to hear. 

but when she is ready, 

she will climb her tower

and break down walls 

destructively 

and take up as much space 

as she damn well pleases. 

when she is ready, 

words will echo 

down every corridor 

she has ever been cornered in. 

there will be no box 

too big or too small 

to conceal. 

& though she isn’t ready, 

there will be a day 

where she will be.