Poetry

My hair billows around my face,
Obscuring the sun,
As it radiates in ,
Filters through.
My toes intertwined in the weeds.
My arms floating
Effortlessly
Swaying in the movement.
My hand crosses my face,
And I turn
 it palm in 
palm out.
Then look again toward the sun,
As the last bubble of air leaves my nostril,
And floats to the surface,
Then is released,
As I finally close my eyes.
Freedom finds me
And allows me
Time.
In this solace
I will be restored.

7 thoughts on “Poetry

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