my emotions are turbulent,
interspersed between the peaks that I clamber to ascend
and the valleys
I heavily and forcibly descend in to –
thrashing, grasping for footholds
and tree roots,
watching fingernails peel back and rip off
under the weight of a rock face.
to gods I don’t believe in
for soft earth to land on,
only to hear
my skull crack on the hard sediment of a ravine;
watch everything dissipate to nothing.
what choice do you have
when it’s fight or flight
but, unfortunately, you were not born a bird?