howling to be.

being quiet,

she cannot be. 

she cannot sit still 

in a polite, artificial silence

so she runs, she rebels

she goes outside

and sets her toes on the musky, dirty grass 

tastes pouring rain on her tongue

feels gossamer fog tickle her fingertips

sees jagged moss-covered rocks

and hears thunder rumble through her bones.

and finally

she 

howls.

she howls herself back to life,

she releases herself back into the world

she howls herself back

to herself

she howls

for every time she never spoke up

for every moment she was too polite to be honest 

she howls 

to be

free. 

Photo: Flickr