What it once was—the black root worming, a snug grub
Skinned from the inner lump of my heart, coal black & whining with sorrow & regret, a childhood agony
I dropped free~freedom came rushing at me
Soul & mind & blood, slick & smooth & flowing river-fast & aching cold, refreshing
How long I wallowed, in the warmth of my own mud, it’s stench restful in its uneasiness
Then, the freed sparrow of my throat, a small warble, rising in the wind, clean in the sunrise—how sweet, how sweet
Despite all the woes, to rise, finally free.