Frustrated with these barren crags of thought
I leap beyond to those clear, still waters.
Poised for a splash with unending ripples
but slipping in smoothly in tranquil hush.
Blocked in by mirrors I so long wished for
only to find the reflections putrid.
True, familiarity breeds contempt
so I leave shattered shrapnel behind me
and instead create a jagged home here
where I do not fit, where stares search my face.
I must stray from that down-filled nest of home,
whatever that means, foreign on my tongue.
We must push for the sunset’s ochre glow
drawing us through tempestuous typhoons
in which we can say with sound confidence:
I leapt and flew when it hurt most of all.