Nails annoyingly encrusted with dirt

Through stuffy undergrowth

Thick and cutting as barbed wire

I could no longer see my hands

Struggling progress up vertical slopes

Tumbling into valleys

On sliding patches of mud

Dirty and bitten

Beaten and stung by little buzzes of perception

Living in squalor for a time

Functional necessities

Learning to make do

This year

Perhaps my head will pop up

Over the unattainable hillside

Gasping for air as if underwater for years

My eyes will see the sun

Teepees nestled along the river

Dark people

Daily life

Children laughing

Maybe I will come home

Looking
At what’s ahead of you
Behind you
Waiting

There’s emptiness about it
Filling your time
With ordinary tasks

Trampling my moral fiber into clouds as it spins around

I am vapor

Formless and seamless

Floating about