by Emma Freeman

For years and years

I used to float above myself

an untethered balloon that slipped out of someone’s hand

I would watch what was happening from way up there

and not know how to get back down to that place below me

that felt so far away now

There was a quiet longing inside

to find my way back to solid ground

but the wind kept pushing me farther and farther away

from where I belonged

and what was once clear

was now difficult to make out

shapes became barely recognizable

I wondered if I would always have to live up there

alone

detached

unanchored

to anyone or anything