what is it that was stolen from you?
doesn't your chest expand?
can't your stomach flip or flop?
don't you hunger; don't you bleed?
can't you laugh out loud or weep?
don't you plan an attack every day?
isn't their music in your life?
don't words play a role?

isn't this so, i ask you?

take your dominant hand,
extend your pointer finger.
place it over your chest,
pin-pricking your bloody nature,
the point of maximum impulse.
isn't that proof enough?
you survived, most likely thrive,
the whole of your heart, the honest truth.