This is freedom.

Sometimes, I write my own poems.

This is Freedom

Staring at a blank wall,
I see there is no way forward,
but also no way back.
I can’t write myself out of this story;
it is etched, carved, burned, scalded
into the tender petals of my heart.

I shy away from the darkness;
bottle it up, push it away,
and then at the last moment, breathe it in,
cold, icy, numbing gasps of fear.
I grasp it between my ice cold hands
and push it under the surface of this soul-less sea
until I can crawl to where horizon and ocean kiss,
gasping for air.

The monsters in my mind
grab my hair and spin me in circles
by the tendrils of my memories.
My synapses fire piercing arrows
from a quiver of ghosts.
I shy away from it all
into the depths of fear and terror.
Fear of myself.
Terror of my own mind.
In the corner I watch myself wilt
like a rose bud in the frozen air.

My own mind grabs me,
and slams me to the floor,
into the wall,
and panic ensues.
The world is black.
The rhythm of my body out of line with my beating heart.
There is no control.
Only fire, burning up my body,
from the inside out.
A match lit inside,
making the moths drive through the pores of my skin,
to create a mad, collage of wing beats,
ticking in my head,
until I scream my way free.

This was me.
This was who I was.
This was all that I was.
This consumed me.
This engulfed me.
This made me.
This molded me.

Now.

Staring at a blank wall,
I dare not look back,
for all I see is a clear path forward.
Paint on hands,
violet, rose, lilac, marigold,
all the flowers of the rainbow.
My hands press against the cold surface,
palms to canvass;
you cannot tell where my fingers end and creation begins.

I breathe tender fire, gentle hues,
chicory smoke, books on a winter eve,
golden sparks that tangle with the embers
in a spectacular moonlit dance.
I breathe beauty
into the soul of this
into the depth of this,
into all that I am.

This harrowing escape
out of the midst of it all
into the fresh air and sea breeze skies
into the endless brightness
into the authenticity and vibrancy
into the joy and courage
into the now, the moment, each moment.

I grasp it.
And hold it.
I run with it.
And feel it.
I embrace it
And cherish it.
And I don’t let go.

This is me.
This is who I am.
This is all that I am.

This is freedom.

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