Too long I have been sucking on
the sugar-water, straining for the
drug of fulfillment, threading through
the tightly wound dendritic channels
of what I thought of
as my heart and soul
but really was the craving
of a self-looped story
for its own rehashing,
for its expected end

Too long I’ve acted, feeling
that I had no choice,
in modes of movement
that kicked me into corners
with stagnant air that I could barely breathe

And though I feel I’d need to throw out everything
to leave it, (everything! — my friends, my loves,
my sense of worth and purpose)
I’m also sensing this is what I need to do —
free fall at the mercy
of what I hope will bear me up
so I can be lifted,
so I can be real.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 16, 2017