What is left behind

Grief swept over me like a fire. Everything left scorched. My hard edges were burned away. All trivial things now ashes. The future I thought I had, burned away. I am a tree without bark, bleeding my sap wherever I go. I used to feel shielded and now I stand naked in a world that seems so sharp.
My selfhood is gone, what do I do with what is left?

I want to behave better, people look at me and see possibility, they see strength, they ponder why I would choose to stay stagnant. I want to progress. How do I overcome the trepidation, when I feel nothing but nakedness, vulnerability?

My burned edges are clothed with the love of defenders, those who wish me well. Even the cover of love hurts right now. I have to shake it from me, I have to stand like a singed tree whose missing bark will never grow back. Hoping the parts of me that remain will grow and protect the holes left from pieces burned away.