November 16, 2015

Sometimes in life
It ceases to be a journey
And becomes a battle.
Not of outside forces,
But of our reaction to them.
We become our own lieutenants.

Soldiers, we battle thoughts
With weaponized breath.
Our body fills with
Tense muscles
Like land mines
Weaving a tale of preparedness
For the worst.
We exhale the possible,
And inhale the now.
This is a war to be won,
An enemy of our own,
No one can fight this for us.

Our minds become
First person shooters,
The screen behind our eyelids
Nightly training,
Filling our dreams with
Self defeat,
And worse.
I raise my bow,
Look through the sight,
Inhale, exhale,
And with precision,
I fire at each of these.
I see them fall,
And don’t grieve for my enemy.
It’s weight
has held me captive
for too long.

Now without these familiar foes
I am set free.
Yet, who I am now,
I do not know.
I’ll change my name,
My hair,
My city,
My love from him,
To myself.
I’m no longer a soldier
but a bird,
Preening it’s feathers
Waiting to fly.