Victoria Hutchins

“Eventually the mean voice in your head will come knocking again. The one that shouts sermons about your inadequacy.

When it does, let it in.

Hang its coat on the hook and give it a cup of tea. Pay attention when it speaks and notice the lilt of its vowels. Something is curious about the way it pronounces its T's . . .

Listen closely and maybe you'll realize -- it isn't your voice.”
― Victoria Hutchins, Make Believe: Poems for Hoping Again

“My temple is a sprawling promise with walls of flesh and bone and choice. The bump on its nose, an altar to my grandmother. Its scars, a shrine to myself. Etched in the foundation are the words: I was here, I was here, I was here, the scrawl of every hand from my bloodline. My body is a temple, and I will use my temple to worship. I will make love. I will make time. I will make promises and try to keep them. I will make breakfast when I do not believe I deserve it. I will fling open every window and shout about hope, even when I don’t feel it. Especially when I don’t feel it. My temple was not bought with blood. It is not for sale. I will be here till it crumbles. I will spend every second I am offered in this sacred home made for my holy spirit.”
― Victoria Hutchins, Make Believe: Poems for Hoping Again