Pain and what comes after

I used to want less pain,
less
I-can’t-breathe-it-hurts-so-bad

if it hadn’t ripped open my guts
in the whirlwind,
scoured my insides with sand,
and thrown me back together
in a blob resembling what used to be a person

would I be here today with the strength
to hold open my arms
to the sun and say shine on me,
and to the moon and say do your worst,
I’ve hurt before, I’ve been broken
and I’ve lived, look at my scars,
they glimmer like shards of glass
in sand in the sunshine
and the moonlight

and I hold open my arms
to the world
to you
but I’ll stop now, I’m repeating myself