Sloughing Off Our Skins

I’ve got to lose this skin I’m imprisoned in”
            — Tymon Dogg
The bones, which hold us to this earth,
fracture like thin ice frosted across
the surface of a pond. Our delicate
bonds part as the deep pulse
of the water shifts like muscle
unknotting beneath tired skin.
Eventually, all scars form a nostalgia
of a healing once mired in personal pain.
We let go of the words, which brought us here;
let go of the explanations and equivocations
we wield in our defense of the beliefs
we hide within; brush off the remaining
bits of ice, and step into a newer light,
the sun warming us to the center of our bones.
(April 2013)

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