I Release By Walking
by Joyce Creed
South Carolina, USA
I was taught —
not by my mother,
nor her mother —
that conformity was
important.
That fitting into the mold
made you less susceptible to
isolation;
that deviating from it
made an outcast out of you
and I wasn't ready
to navigate the world
on my own.
I was taught that
if I was an array
of colours that flowed
from the brightest of tints
to the darkest of tones,
in my best interest,
it would be wise
to stay monochrome —
to blend into the shadows
of those around me.
I never once thought to
entertain the idea of
where all that colour
would go.
At the ripe age of seven,
I bet I figured it would
disappear
and cease to exist,
leaving me with some
semblance of normalcy.
I never once thought that
it would seep into my skin
like black tea in boiling water,
that it would leave my bones
stiff from lack of movement,
that it would make my muscles
spasm and twitch involuntarily.
I never once thought to
entertain the idea that
the colour would
make home in the hollow
shell of who I was.
So that,
when I found the urge to walk,
to pace back and forth in the foyer
of my three-bedroom home,
it would release itself.
Little by little,
memories and thoughts
would make itself known
with each step I took.
Anger took the form of
rich crimson that'd leak
from the skulls of my
abusers and would
taint my hands.
Sadness took the form of
suddenly falling to the ground
as thick waves washed over,
as my throat dried from
choking back sobs and screams.
And I never once thought
of how much it would cost
to unweave those webs,
of how my pain would
sneak from behind and
make me raw all over again.
I never once thought of
how light my body would
feel as I release it all by walking.
Joyce Creed
Joyce Creed is a poet and author from South Carolina. They enjoy writing poetry, SFF, and mysteries. When they're not writing, you can find them embroidering designs they found on Pinterest, reading a book, or baking cookies.