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By
I. Know. Freedom.


Mark my skin
time trailing
slow as rain across life
each breath the punch of a needle
laying ink
 dark sorrow
  brilliant sighs
I thought I knew the world
    knew my place, my purpose


Like the rain
Time brings the summer
The heat of change
and I
am shy as August
If life were a year
From January wonder
to December dust
The thread of law and control


could never hold me 
Not a thread
Not stitched
I am water
I am ink
slipping into the renewing rain
 On a boat made of will, I abandon January and expectations


December will never touch me
for
I 
know
freedom
I write it with ink in my skin, my soul
in fragile whispering will
I know freedom 

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