Embracing Typhoons

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.