My ancestors pull
my body out
of the mire.
There are no swamps
to float on.
I stand firm
in my place–
and walk
in straight lines.
The void
I try
to fill–
inside my bones
the steel framework
to support
my existence.
It’s the heart
that chooses
color,
a strong gust of wind
banging
wind chimes
wherever I go.
I pushed away
from the truth
when I was
still playing.
An innocent hand
in the sand.
I always
change the game
when I choose
the wrong
answer.

(originally published in TigerShark Magazine, 2023)