I take the step and feel my weathered heart
Begin to shift and slowly to release
The tortures that have plagued it from the start,
And sigh with waking signs of unknown peace.
Each small event of grace throughout my life
Cannot compare to how the plummet heals;
I soon forget the details of my strife,
And learn how air my memories can steal.
The wind between my fingers takes away
My weary pain, and from my face does clear
The numbness that concealed the disarray;
The stoic mask that I had learned to wear.
But soon my new-found freedom breathes its last;
I do the same, and I escape my past.