Held in place by a promise
held motionless by hope
Held without having felt held
In so many years
I wrench myself free of myself
Of a promise I now see
Was one I made to myself
On your behalf
Frozen for what seemed to be
Some kind of fleeting forever
Even in the smallest days of winter
I feel warmth spread from my belly
Outward to each extremity
Free from the hurt that I
Clung to like a ghost clutching
its last glimpses of life
I always saw the forest for the trees
I always listened to them speak
But I missed everything else
All the life that hangs in all the branches
And everything in the in-between
Free from the roots that bound me to this spot
I leave for the first time ever
The meadow may be snowy,
But the sunlight is much better.
—
Leah Ruthe Chatterjee
