Do I dare?

I’m not sure I have it in me.

All the options going forward are daunting

where they are not terrifying.

The exposure,

the vulnerability,

the chance of failure

is so high.


But this comfort is a silk rope

coiling its way around my neck

and the legs of my throne grow weak

and weary.

The days of calling myself “King” are over,

that sun set

and never rose again.


Now it is back to the land,

back to the spirit of the river

and the trees

and the dirt.

Son of fog

and saltwater tears

distilled from the shorelines

where we draw our nets.


Maybe the move is to go back?


and then go forward.

Strip off the costume,

I was never fooling anyone;

not even myself.

The land knows me,

knows my bones.

I am from this dirt,

this moss,

this crystal glacier water.

Everything else,

I never was.


So that’s it.

It’s just that easy, huh?


it comes down

to letting go.




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