into wind, dewy grass
tickling my soles. My kite
trailing behind me. Unsure
of its place. Flailing
but not giving up.
I don’t care much about
the kite. I want to feel the wind
in my hair. The hill
I must climb. The view
from the summit. My town
lying still at my feet. I run
My kite runs with me. Red
like my menstrual blood.
Powerful. It finds a current
and climbs up. Steadily.
Strongly. Purposefully.
It tugs hard.
It rises high. I struggle
to keep up. One day
I too will be Free
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