It’s Like having both hands finally coming out the mud. The
pull at the very end. The hairs on the top of my wrists
embrace the breeze. The fresh breeze after months of pulling
and tearing the very muscle in my arms. The release of
pressure lets out the sweetest sound of air flooding the hole
where I once lived, thought. How sweet does the air leap up
my arms and consumes my pores. The muscles in my back pull
extra hard because the signal from my brain sees the release
almost at full term. I breathe out.
Muddy, wet, still bending over as if I am still pulling but
it’s over. I stand up straight. The night of moon glistens
across my body. Dripping from my hands as I hold you. Mud,
sweat, blood. The rain of my eyes begins to wash the hard
work of mud off of you. I look up and close my eyes. I dare
not look at you yet. The age of me wants to remember how it
felt before. I let that feeling go to feel the now. So sweet
to feel you drip destiny and purpose through the mud on my
hands. I feel you growing through the bowels of my chest. I
allow the peaceful turning of the infinite to raise my hands
to my mouth softly.
I bring you to my lips and open my mouth gently and drink you
in. I take my time as you fill the desert of my thirst with
life. No, with ideas, plans, and hope. This time the wishing
is gone. The age of me knows how to let me grow the garden of
my spirit, nurture the blades of my imagination, and water
the way of my imagination into the now, the future, the
moment. I relish in the cosmic of this moment as the shine of
nights light embraces the dark of my skin. I stand shining,
inside and out looking at you, I finally have true, Freedom.
Your Back