teach me to be free

i walk, asleep across this campus
every third step

(which is better than before-
i love the village
but was so distracted,
my attentions drawn away from
purpose with every uneven brick
also, there aren't as many dogs here)

if two out of three steps lead towards
life abundant,
this means i am moving
i am living
i am alive

with these two steps,
i pound redemption into this pavement

sometimes soft & slow, sweetly
and now, often, in battle
intentional thunder
throwing every ounce of weight forward
momentum

(i remember now, how lovely it is to fly,
but how difficult to control
to surrender my body, every molecule to motion
feeling flesh tear in contact with steel
the iron in the blood in my mouth as i felt
metal meddle with the skin of my lips)

this is to say: i recall what momentum without grace can do

so i ask (again) for grace
in the midst of movement
that the thunderous steps
do not strike without will
elicit lightening, scorch severely
in the absence of strategic warfare,
comes civilian casualty

teach me to harness my impulsions
and still hold
"the mane of untamed horses"
to restrain and surrender: simultaneously
teach me to be free