Fallen
FALLEN
I know what it’s like to fall. The thud. When my own existence becomes dead weight. The way the heart changes beat. The organ subverted by things that take forms they shouldn’t take: dread, guilt, anxiety layer my soul with a blanket of lead. Paralysis from the layers of mistakes I have made. The many ways in which I am reminded of them. The ways I remind myself. Fear of making them again. These things leave me in a state of stasis.
Words come out stilted. I have lost the ability to commune. I don’t want to make light of life. I want life to be light.
Can we find a new path? Together? A path for the fallen. We are angels. Our wings may be frayed and battle worn. We flail in them like old newspaper. Torn pages of notebooks we filled on drunken drug fueled nights of false epiphanies.
Time to step onto a new path. These fallen trees are so beautiful. Their bodies lie on the ground, yet they are connected to a whole network of trees. The very trees that reach back to my heart. They are my arteries. My hope. Sun reflects off ocean and through the woods. I follow it. I am staying on the path. I am coming back. I am only now being born. Follow me. Please.