Mourning My Survival

I’m mourning safety —

the survival part of my journey

as it comes to an end.

I’m mourning a part of me

I thought I could hold on to for a long time.

I’m mourning the knowing —

all the calculated moves.

I’m mourning a path that isn’t mine,

because for me to be truly free,

I need to be limitless.

I need to spread my wings

without knowing how far they’ll stretch.

I need to tap into the unknown

for my freedom to be unleashed.

I cannot be

if I am contained by beliefs,

constrained by contracts,

held back by mass dreams

that have nothing to do with me —

everything to do with who I’m not.

I don’t know why I hold a soul

that refuses to be contained.

Everyone else seems to be doing well with that.

Why can’t I be caged?

Is it because I’m limitless?

Because cages are for animals,

and my nature cannot survive

on fight-or-flight alone?

It’s never easy with me.

It’s never smooth.

Or maybe

I’ve just run from myself for too long.

I’m mourning things I wouldn’t need to

had I listened sooner.

But I’m glad for the realization —

even though it feels sad now,

I know I won’t be here for long.

The journey to avoid regret

is as intense

as living with it.