slack reins don’t necessarily render a runaway horse.
months of lightbulb moments have finally taught me to abandon my vice-like grip on the outcome.
there is no race, no blue ribbon prize to win at the finish line. mine is an open field, opponent-free course.
my ugly, nasty ego tries to place enemies and landmines where they don’t exist; my true self walks among meadows of sweet peas who provide cushion for amble and romp.
no matter how rigid i lock my jaw or spin my hamster-wheel brain, i am powerless over anyone else’s deeds and tongue but my own.
there is no paycheck, lottery win or fancy house worth living in fiction.
i drink in reality like a parched, sapped plant empties the water can.
i have perpetrated the life of numb and vacuous, and i have the divorce papers to prove it.
will the real katie please stand up?
oh the liberty and ecstasy to live remembering my truth and sticking like glue to it each hour.
exhaling deeply into that space where i abandon my illusory control over events, vampires and other affairs which drain my soul, the pinch behind my eyebrows unclenches, and i feel years of anxiety drain down the back of my neck.
oh, the freedom of reliquishing to chance whilst still clad in my favorite pair of shoes, hued true-blue and moral.
saturday i add another candle on my cake, and i need not hold my breath for birthday wishes.
i have all i need and want: sincerity to myself.