The Work

It is hard work
untangling the ropes that have bound you for so long.
There have been so many false starts
and half unravelings, partial victories.

There is part of you that believes the work will never be done,
but there is another, hardheaded and relentless
in its belief that freedom exists, even for you.

And so you pick and pull.
You untie the knots.
You hack with your blades large and small,
You struggle and break free, one limb at a time,
ignoring the new vines that grow
from the rotted compost of the old,
believing the work will go faster
than the sordid new growth.

Determined to dance,
you work.

It is hard work.