Whispered Wanderings

It stops her moving; her breath held
captive in her throat, this… thing,
this hunger,
this thirst,
for freedom finally birthed, deep
inside her soul. And she wants to run
but she dares not move:
afraid of shaking loose the feeling,
afraid of losing direction
afraid of losing… what?

Those things that once were
anchors of safety, now rusty,
old, and holding her back?

Those things that used to protect her by
hiding her true self, that now
prevent her from being truly known?

An internal spark of magic, she sees it!
The shaking loose must not be feared.
It’s up to her what she holds onto;
instead of depending on those things
that once she let hold her.
Aware once again of her breathing,
a gentle moment of tranquility blooms, and
she knows with certainty what she must do:
Steps out of what was, into the anticipation
of what she is finally becoming.

klm
6/23/24