When someone fears not my freedom
opens their grip and surrenders
any hold on me
the blessed result is a kind of peace -

maybe a pause before I approach the cliff
but in that small moment a glimmer of grace
enough to save me

a space to crawl a few layers deeper
to find what lies beneath,
a slender root, a fertile bit of soil

a mystery on the desert plain
that nurtures a tender shoot
to take me into a hazy future

Freedom to die
to the hell within me
to the surface me
that pretends control
to the hidden pain that gobbles my light

These little deaths free me
to embrace the little boy within
the creative self
the beautiful alive soul
the pure core
that sustains us all.  

When Some One, anyone, fears not my freedom
opens their grip and surrenders…