Belonging

I bend easy, like a willow, swaying in
every direction, never favoring
East over West. I am hungry for
all direction, feasting on the luxurious winds
that pick me up and carry me from the storms of
inexperience to the gentle breeze of wisdom.

Though, I snap as sharp as winter pea
skin, frost bitten by the breath of the season
when they try to take me.
They say I belong with them in the East, where
the sun rises just to shine its Gold on me.
They say I belong to the West and
the colours of their underground sunsets.
Some say I belong for them to share,
for them to grant my freedom,
and they do not understand that I belong
only to the wind.

Emily, The Tightrope Walker

Emily
walks with rotting feet

turned out
old
birthing hips
rock
with her jellyfish
spine

her path has become
as thin as her
starved bones

a
tight
borderline
between survival and
extinction

Emily
with her nervous order
steps
slight
whispering steps
onto
an aimless rope
an unambitious line

unstable
intimidated
weak
battered
uneasy
shrinking
Emily

walks