Fighting with an aching body
and doubtful mind,
protesting muscles are no match
for a warmed heart,
but make me crumble
when fear enters.

There is a wall,
but I haven't hit it
yet.
Give everything still,
expect more
love more
open more
be more.

Vulnerable to important eyes,
I do this on purpose?
There is no cheating;
it's an honest profession,
of tricks over lies.

And now my heart is a closet
and the wardrobe is diverse
but so much goes unworn.
So when to dust off
that confidence dress,
and lay to rest
my suffocating overcoat?

My heart is a closet
when it could be a park--
it could be anything.
This is my metaphor,
and I chose closet.....
THAT is why I'm a closet.

But now

my heart is the sky.

My eyes are the stars
my hands are the earth
my mouth is the sea

my legs are the trees,
their roots and branches,
my arms are the wind, the clouds,
the thunder, the lightning, the rain.

My pelvis is fire,
powerful, flexible, enticing and necessary.

In my metaphor,
now that I am life itself,
I can live.