Crawling Through the Mud

How do I heal?

My body smells betrayal in every cure.

So I crawl through the mud:

Put together a puzzle of disconnected pieces.

Each part pulls me in a different direction-

Disjointed-

They will not speak to each other.

Every one running along its own frantic path. Out of touch- spinning away.

My body is a room full of trapped parakeets. Like a beach of slippery sand. Pulling itself backwards.

So I crawl through the mud:

Finding my way. One step by one step.

Turning down to dial. Reeling in each disparate part. Holding them together as they scramble away.

Tightly.

Patiently.

I cannot run from my own journey.

I cannot run from my own self.