a tiny piece missing

when i was 20, i was kidnapped.

the rest of that story is deeply personal.

yet, if you look closely, it is tattooed upon my very being.
it lingers upon my very psyche.
it has changed my ability to trust... especially men.
it has made me more hesitant.

i walk with a dog at night.

i am a little more scared.
a little less willing to believe in the kindness of strangers.
a little more wary.

i frighten easily...

i am like a shattered piece of pottery.
glued back together piece by piece
but with one tiny piece missing.

i love people deeply and easily.
i am fiercely loyal
and cultivate friendships which have spanned long distances and many years.

every day brings me closer to filling in that tiny piece.
i am filling it with love
with trust
with prayers
with silly putty

by walking at night
by knitting
by becoming a real artist

i am letting go of fear... one breath at a time
but this is not easy.
then again, what's the alternative?

(footnote: the kidnapper is serving consecutive life sentences in a federal prison.)