The sky is bigger than I imagined
when I looked up from the ground.
It stretches without effort,
blue in a way that feels almost unfair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Flying looked easier from below.
Up here, it demands everything\u2014
balance, strength, belief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And still, it tempts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The highest peak keeps shifting,
always somewhere else,
just beyond what I am today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wouldn\u2019t accept this.
I pushed harder than my wings allowed.
I fell.
I rose again\u2014
each time believing
the next flight would spare me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I fly like any other day today.
Certain.
Hopeful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then the air thins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I fall into the treetops\u2014
branches claw at me,
leaves scrape my skin.
I hang there for a moment,
caught between holding on
and letting go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I untangle myself.
Drop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The ground meets me without mercy.
I roll.
The pain spreads\u2014
slow, deliberate, instructive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stand, but my body remembers.
Every step limps forward
with a quiet protest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A porch appears.
Shade.
Wood cool against my back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sit.
Count my breaths.
Let the sun warm
what\u2019s still alive in me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sleep comes gently,
like permission.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wake to birds,
to the sound of leaves shifting.
My mouth is dry.
My throat burns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I follow the sound of water\u2014
slowly,
carefully\u2014
into a backyard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And something loosens in my chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pickle jars drying in the sun.
A cane rattan chair
leaning into its own age.
A familiar pebbled path
under tired feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nothing announces itself,
yet everything is known.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The rusted iron door waits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is the back of my house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The knowing arrives quietly\u2014
not with relief,
but recognition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t arrive.
I returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The running is over.
Not because I won,
but because I am done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few steps.
Stairs that remember my weight.
A bed that holds
without asking questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The mountain view from my window
has not moved.
It did not chase me.
It did not punish my leaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It stayed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And now,
it lets me stay too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is where it began.
This is where I was meant to be all along.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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