The Stone in My Pocket

Dear Delyara, For years, I carried your blame like a heavy stone. I took it everywhere—to work, to bed, to my parents' house. I believed I was the reason the windows broke and the plates flew. But tonight, I am looking at that stone and realizing it never belonged to me. I’m dropping it right here on the floor of this sanctuary. It’s your weight, not mine. I am walking away light.