Diagnosis, a Written on the Body poem



He flips back through my chart,

scanning for evidence

of my broken-ness

to confirm his perfunctory diagnosis.


The squinty eyes light up

under his bushy eyebrows,

as he finds what he is

looking for.


“Ah, I see you have

been tampered with.”


I leave his office labeled





Many years later

she tells me

with deep compassion

in her voice:


“We are never

too broken

to be healed.”


And I want to believe her.


I am tired of being

the broken girl.


It feels such a vast expanse,

the Grand Canyon inside me.

I will have to stretch my wings

to fly across the divide.


But I am ready to let go

of this comfortable agony

and leap into the unknown,

trusting that Grace will send me

rising thermals to coast

when my wings tire.


I am ready.


All that is left now

is to step

off the edge.






© Joyelle Brandt 2016