Let it peel off of me like strips of sunburned skin.
The brittle layers crack,
curl at the edges.

I know how to feel without flinching.

I will walk bare,
pink and new
relinquishing what I've shed.

Let those crusted shields cling to earth,
those paper-thin husks
scuttling, a cicada’s shell in the wind.

Sun‑bleached and unrecognizable,
Here, in this ragged aftermath,
Flesh open,

I know how to feel without flinching.