I have run through tall grass fields a hundred times, that cover your whole self so completely, in the night, breathless, listening for the runner, the running away one, the fearful, frightened one, the alone one, the one wanting for excitement & wanting, longin’ to be free ..
“What do you really know about freedom until it’s taken away? What do you really feel about freedom until your own self is the one enslaving you?”
They close over one’s head and there are weasels and snakes.. sometimes I am small, small as a mouse or even smaller- a cricket once- sometimes I run on two legs- sometimes I nose my way through on four, following the most spectacular smell. Once I was a giant mystical dragoon, slithering, swishing, slashing through the silver grass in a browned yellow faded place that looked like a cliche memory or a rainstorm or a nightmare or something else…
and once I was a slave, hiding from the watchers, as they rattled their chains, leashes, now, closer, now..
another time I was a little chicken and his friends tryna solve an alien mystery, but I am running running on two legs again..
I swish back my hair-it’s wild and tangled, and bushy, it should get caught in the spikes and bristles but it doesn’t, I go through the tall standing grass smoothly, so smoothly, everything’s silvery in the moonligjt- only theres no moon and my names Leia
I am afraid and I run and run, no one knows I am here..it’s terrifying, exhilarating, mindblowing and sad- there is a farm behind me and a city ahead, but all that’s real is that grass, tall, silvery, silent, over my head, and I’m running