walking the wilderness

Walking the wilderness

into my bones.

Legs

dragging through the tangles

of weed and struggling grasses.

Chest

heaving from the effort

of pressing further

into the unknown.

Nothing is familiar.

Nothing is home.

Nothing is spoiled

or new.

Nothing before me

has ever been touched

by feet,

by hands,

by eyes,

before.

Walking the wilderness

into my bones.

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3 responses to “walking the wilderness

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