i tossed papers into the fire. the words that turned to ash rose higher than their importance, but i still feel free now, from those words that tell truncated stories of who I was 25 years ago. i am not that skinny girl with plum sized tits. i’ve put on five or ten pounds. now i’m that slim girl with plum sized tits that grew while i was pregnant to large navel oranges then deflated mere months after the birth of my first child. she didn’t breast feed. i wanted to, but the gods had other plans that didn’t include my best wishes for my child. words not burned floated to the ground and left half truths for others to piece together. i’m going to keep my fire burning into the new year so that old stories can be scooped out of the ash, mixed with soil and buried with a mango seed so that new stories can grow big and tall and full of sweet truths. i still feel free now, because the words grow things. the words become my time machine. i still feel free.
© zaji, 2016