breathe easy

the last little while has weighed heavy. like dozens of bricks strapped to my limbs. joints and muscles sore, my body hurts. i tell myself that with movement comes pain. and the pain flows. and eventually dissipates. sometimes though, it hurts too much. frustrated, i want it to just go away. sometimes i want to forget that i want movement more than anything.

4 am, the other night i woke up crying. but why, i scolded myself. you want this, so take it.

so I move hard. intensely. to the point of impatience. to the point of cruelty. and i take things hard. and i add bricks. the weight unbearable. and so the pain stagnates me. because I hold on to it.

4 am, last night i woke up drenched in sweat. distressed i couldn't remember the name of the street we used to live in. the last place we moved into before we left. the one with the big window in the kitchen where i saw that soldier steal my yellow banana board and skate away down the block. the one near the military base where we drove by everyday, where the bomb exploded the day my mom had turned the car around in time because she'd forgotten something at home. the street where i chalked colorful squares unto the cement and played leyley.

i took the pen and pad by my bed, and at 4 am, i wrote. i wrote till the joints in my hand ached. till my fingers couldn't hold the pen anymore. and i stopped. lay my head on the pillow. and inhaled. and exhaled. and inhaled. and exhaled...

soft
and slow.