what if

what if you just started writing

to see what came out?

like clawing up a big rock

that was slunk halfway down

into the damp soil

earthworms, rolly pollies wiggle underneath

not eager to be disturbed.

like excavating a dusty old box

you found in the attic

in the corner, under a pile of photo albums

musty papers, keepsakes, ticket stubs, diplomas

memories

seep out of pores

impossible to arrange back in

the way you found them.

This was where she belonged

The hillsides came alive as flaming horses streaked across the horizon.

Galloping, galloping with an urgent passion.

The frantic roar grew, amplified by an unseen power.

Instinctively, she knew she could not outrun them, even though the voices in her mind were screaming to be heard over the din.

Instead, she was rooted in place, captivated and unable to escape.

With wide eyes, she allowed her body to lie down and sink into the soil.

The glow illuminated her face and played with the stinging hot tears mixing with the earth.

Her hands dug into the soil, trapping dirt beneath her fingernails.

She waited.

This was where she belonged.