Anchored Movement

A poem about finding yourself

Photo by Fiona Art from Pexels

forehead to the floor
heart
out of order
anger building rage

it’s hereditary
this caged anger
martyrdom
you know the story

used liquor boxes
hold Shakespeare
winter sweaters
while she skips
graduation
in order to continue
creative momentum

tiny stone of doubt
tries to weigh her down
while supporters —
careful watchers
ward it off —
always in the background

she walks doe-eyed
into the headlight
letting her righteousness
deflate while trusting
she will survive to travel
from her head to her whole

she feels strings attached
believes a puppeteer has control
until she hawks
the now-mountainous rock
from her throat
to use for an anchor
balance

while she grabs the ropes
guides her own dance.