Fire & Flight

It’s instinct; fight or flight. He said stay because it would be stronger to stay. It would be worth it to shelve these hurts one after the other on the bookcase in my heart. Stay. Don’t run. I railed against the voice in my head that considered giving in. This is strength, too; leaving when it becomes too much. Knowing when to draw the line. Is it fair? What is fair, though. We could talk ourselves in circles, in battles of hypocrisy, in the tight-rope walking of jealousy.

I light a match in the dry wood. I look to the stars and then I let it fall. Burn it. Burn it all.

Sometimes nothing is better. Sometimes ashes and soot give you more. Underneath the soil is stewing, priming to someday grow again.

I will walk the barren land alone. There is strength in that.

I defy you to call me weak. It’s instinct not weakness; fight or flight.

I was born to fly.

Broken Bells – The High Road

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8 thoughts on “Fire & Flight”

  1. There is strength in all manner of things, in everything we do, every day– because, really, when it all boils down to gravy: it’s all hard. Nothing in life is easy.

  2. Instinct is animal, nothing less, nothing more. If you choose to be purely animal, you are meat. If you ignore it, you’ve lost touch with base nature, which is perhaps worse.

    The part of you that writes, that truly soars, that kisses the clouds alive, is what matters.

    Whether the writer listens to the animal, or not, is not weakness. But it isn’t stregnth, either.

    It’s just what is.

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