With a field below I remember why I began to leave, how I can stand. While here is where. A silence I know, and what it means to feel my hands filling with the whispered falls of petals, there being no more than to breathe.
There is this place where my prayer is good enough for Heaven and I sing calmly to stars.
No needed touch but the wind.
No hurt but simple, alone.
I know I never have to go back, become something I don't know, do a thing I don't want to do. I know I could always hold on. I know I needn't ever turn around and yet, and yet, and yet.