Whatever cage you’re in 
you bend the rust-soaked bars 
and free yourself 
with your own dark hands. 

They say things are bigger here 
What they mean 
is that your heart beats feral 
and aches for horizons. 

You stand in a sea 
of wildflowers, watch the tides 
turn from orange to gold to blue. 
Nothing asks your name. 

The heat is like a slow 
guitar, the dark like an invisible 
singer over the radio. 
You hum along without the words. 

The fireflies pop and spark 
and dance in the forest. 
Something in you stops running. 
Your breath calms the animal.