I am tackling my circumstances
void of myth or the fallacy
I am trying to see straight even
if I must murder my own liberty,
harpoon my freedom and go under.
I see the road but I cannot
take the road if it leaves my loved ones
in jeopardy – parachute strings cut, plane
door open at high altitude.
I must go back, ache all over, unable
to sleep or find a resting position
without pain. Unless
supplies arrive, compassion comes and strips me
of this brutal incremental starvation and I can
stand unencumbered by such a load, unashamed
of my joy – no void of doom slicing through
my budding strength.
Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Borderless Journal” May 2022
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: