“What am I doing?”
A question
of my own actions,
my own motivations.
The epiphany
that I have just moved on.
No longer bound by instinct,
subject of muscle memory.
I look around,
and I am in control.
What a moment of sweet terror.
Now, all that remains
is that mountain ahead,
and I can see it clear
above the trees.
The old bonds,
skin and sinew
holding me back,
wither without blood,
dry up,
and break away.
Even the fondest nails
scratch shallow.
The itch is deeper, now;
it’s in my soul.
Wrap my body up
in layers,
upon layers,
and set out in the cold.
Only hardship and exposure
seem to quell the roar
that lives in me
these days.
I’ve been broken…
…free.
HG – 2021
Beautiful.