(no subject)
This week, my blanket of doubt replaced a blanket of stars so dense that it looked like tiny moth bitten holes in a black sheet. “Come, you don't need this anymore”.
Before, right before, pinks and purples danced on the horizon as Helios's chariot dipped below to other lands and other mountains and someone else standing on their own zenith breathing the clean mountain air.
Last night, I drove home and I screamed at no one. I tasted resentment and frustration on my tongue as I yelled back at every moment I've doubted myself, at every moment I kept myself small in an unlocked cage because I thought it would bring me safety and love when all it did was slowly leech my life away from me and leave me a dry husk on an island covered in salt. The Dead Sea is dead because its salt contents are so high that nothing can live in it.
The woods, the birds, the spiders in their webs, the cool Maine night resuscitated a part of me that had been floating and quiet for a long time. It woke me up slowly, tenderly, lovingly reminding me that I matter in a way in a way that had stuck to my bones without malice.
Two years ago, I crossed under a huge arc made by a tree branch and felt myself take a new breath. This past week, New England gave me another.