I’m tangled in the lengths of my own hair.
Uncertain about who I am becoming,
but, damned glad to no longer be a shadow
underlined by a whisper of sound.
I make noise now.
I curse like a sailor.
Stand and yell like a fire alarm.
Leap into the air.
Twirl in the grass.
Land in the graceless folds of my own arms
I drown myself in reams of startled laughter,
and stand like a crooked gate that’s been newly painted.
I’m tangled, but oddly satisfied.
Seems tangled is what I was always meant to be.