Acclimating 

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

transform 

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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