THERAPY
The pain is IT. Her gambit
Is to hide as in childhood games.
She fills her pack with gear
And takes to hills where mountain
Ashes drop their scarlet tears
On the trail. She pulls herself
By friendly birchbark handholds
Up over barrier ledges.
She sucks in air until
The fist within her diaphragm
Unclenches, leaving her
Seared and hollow as a
Redwood drilled by lightning.
The final sprint to the height
Of land is an epiphany.
Leave a Reply