Stained Inside
By Magdalena Polska
Inside me is a vast landscape.
An old woman smelling of rain
casts the shadow of a cloud.
Inside the cloud rests my childhood dress—
pink, with white lace, and stains
that will not wash away.
Behind me, my old house stretches into memory,
and the library where I hid in pages
to escape the beating.
Between the buildings stands younger me,
scared, broken, trembling.
“Just ask for help,” I whisper.
Cold and damp clings to my insides,
Weighing every step.
That’s when I see it beginning to change…