Mountain medicine

Everyone is worried about me

when I take to the mountain alone.

But it is a sanctuary,

a private solitude.

My legs pumping. The sound of gravel crunching

beneath my shoes.

The wind in my hair. Salty sweat on my skin.

I am fearless.

I am powerful.

If I ran off the edge of the trail

I swear I could fly.

The mountain has its dangers

but no more than the world

that waits for me below.

At least in the mountain

I am free. Liberation

is hard to find in a concrete jungle.

The risk is a mugging

Losing my material possessions.

The risk of staying at home

Is losing my mind.

The scales are tipped.

So I run. Like I will never

run again.

I leave all my broken parts on the trail.

My heart aches; my insecurities; my ugliness

All strewn across the Table.

And then I breathe. Like I haven’t

breathed all day.

And then I climb in my car.

LANY at full volume.

And I am a better human for it.

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