fall and float
i used to think
staying in place
was safer than
falling
but now…
aw, screw it.
i still think it is.
cause i leapt, and
every leap has a landing, and
mine was a crash, and
now i’m lying here
broken, scattered bits
i can’t seem to recollect.
you might tell me,
you’re okay. get back up, you
just didn’t jump high
enough,
but didn’t and enough are
what keep me here —
the nots i’ve tied
firmly around my wrists
draw tighter whenever i forget,
cause i learned not to trust
my legs — they’ll take off,
mangled and hobbling,
before i’ve time to heal.
the thing is, they’re numb —
the gaping pain of their wounds
somehow lodged in my heart
in my gut.
so i stay here
in it. breathing
space into pangs until
they’re freed, opened
into something new.
in these moments of stillness
let go, let go
shackles slacken when
i surrender
images and time align
this is more than
remembering, knowing:
being
i find myself
floating,
a seedling on the wind
gliding as i exhale
onto the soft earth.
