The Girl Who Makes It

I am the girl

Who makes it
 
Who carves

Her life
From stone
With just a chisel
And her will

Who recreates herself
On the fly
Because that
Is what survival
Requires

I am the girl
Who goes
Through hell
And is
Destroyed

Yet
Somehow
Here
I am

Bench

When I die
I do not want  
A casket or a stone
 
I went a bench
 
Somewhere out
In the world
With a view
That is calm

Solid and simple
Kept up and comfortable

A bench
That welcomes
All people
To rest

A bench
That people bring
Their troubled joyful
Souls to
 
I want for them
A place
To stop

To mark
A moment

A decision
A time

A bench

Where people
Can be still

And savor
This brief life
Before
It’s gone