It feels like I’ve been peeking
from behind a curtain
at most things,
being present and visible
only to my own bumps and scars.
I’d like to sing out loud
but it comes out barely a whisper.
I’d like to greet the world with open arms
but I catch myself clenched and unwilling.
I’d like to take more than a moment
to breathe deep the late summer green,
but my hills won’t wait for me
and autumn will be upon us both soon.
