i hunt for my soul

in a multitude of faces.

shadow and light

play on the fruits.


in the silence

our essence,

is the void 

of potentialities,

whose flames reveal

the latch to my cage.


iron to steel,

my brittle brandishings


into tensil strength.


i must own 

the capacity for love,

the way i own 

my brutal scars 

and stumblings.


with a vulnerability

that risks rejection,

the burning down

renders flesh 

with the inability 

to attach a story.


it is the only way,

this unclenching.

as witness

to my world-self,

i begin

to live.


© M.G. Iannucci 2017
Photo: Cedar Juniper

4 thoughts on “Acclimating 

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