The old ways have broken apart, the strands that bind are no longer strands
Shadows linger, maybe forever, and maybe they should
Reminders of old ways, pieces of creation that have a right to exist, just not for their old purpose
Pieced together from family, society, broken hearts passed down from generation to generation
The tethers that bound me gave me drive, purpose, motivation – but in service of what?
Answer that question for yourself!
All untethered now
None of these things were created by me. Borrowed and repurposed and made my own. They saved me, gave me place, purpose, armor, shape and form
I wore them out, tattered them out until they didn’t fit anymore. I fought and screamed and bit and struggled. I gave up and fought more
But who was this “I”? This me at the center of it all?
Hah, there is no center!
Was I the fighting, the armor or the urge to free? – or maybe the untethered soul sitting dark in the womb, scared and anxious and naked…unknown. Maybe that’s who I’ll be as I emerge, unknown.
In this dark womb, anxiety, unformed, not old and not yet new. Maybe no new should take its place.
Maybe it should remain unformed. Alive, threads like streams, flowing, dancing, bumping into things, but untethered and free.
But where’s the peace in this, as the shadows again take form and I fight some more, forgetting that I am unborn?
Stop, just stop it all, for a moment or more and remember. This moment, this full and complete moment – with birds and body, feelings flowing around and within, wind shimmering trees, the air alive, crisp, electric and full.
Sighs and breaths and the living moment, unknown and full.
~ Damon Farnum, May 2022