group therapy - james roach

She called us survivors, 

the word coming from her 

fervent tongue, our hearts

not quite knowing how to cope with

the idea of ever feeling worthy again. 

We have each other’s stories 

stuck in our teeth, 

our sorrows, like smoke, 

deep in the threads of our clothes. 

Our eagerness inviting 

hope beneath clinical lighting, 

each one of us a bandaged wound yearning

to become something different. 

We take it all in. 

We are broken but

hardly reduced 

to ashes, our sore throats 

eager to swallow

a language we don’t yet 

know how to speak. 

We all watch these fires burn. 

We all watch our tears fail to put them out.

We will need so much more than saltwater

and so much less than words

to keep this place from burning up. 

James Roach (they/he) is a queer, trans, sober poet most creative between the hours of up-too-late and is it even worth going to bed? He currently lives in St. Louis.