by healing, set free

 

healing wounds I didn't know, 

that I inherited, 

either by birth, bloodline, 

circumstance or conditioning, 

is what forest, 

now as kindling, 

that I am straightaway the burn,

to shed light upon this mend in passing.

wood as trauma symbolized,

fire as earnestness attending,

light as this moment self realized,

the imprint, the family ties,

the upbringing, and the learned responses,

they all contributed.

from dry grass to needles to twigs,

to sticks to broken branches 

to sawed-off logs,

are wounds, in and of themselves 

in this forrest of passage.

this moment in my awareness 

burning brightly,

from form to essence in return.

gifts given to me by taken away.

I become the heat of release

and the surrender to free flight.

for healing is first flight into the sky of me. 

I want to see forever

as if eyes were a necessary means.

I want to feel whole

as if now births me into destiny,

where unraveling these parts 

reveals a whole

as keep-sacred releases all 

that was so bound.

I now talk to the past

as if to mentor it from its miseries,

to console and to reunify. 

this as my inherit, 

is now set free

to spend itself as its own eternity.

where each snowflake, 

each drop of rain

each spark ascending, 

each blade of separateness

comes from and go to 

their means of coalesce, 

as if its feel and form

were their disguise.

and now they are all set free . . .