Trigger Warning
You go to that place where the trees dance and the air sings a whistling breeze
You go to that place where you can hear your heart beat and you can feel every pulse that travels through your body
like a melody nature can’t break, a melody where you sink into the earth and absorb it’s music, a melody that can only be felt once you’ve been there
it doesn’t matter why or how you are there, because everything stands still and your mind becomes as blank and clear as the water
lapping up the earth in a constant game of tag, run away so your mind can’t catch you
but that’s the thing, because the water is always dragged back after those few moments of escape, a tether bringing it forever back
the constant erode of the sand beneath your feet, dragging you further in
the undertow of water pulling you in every direction
because no matter where your mind disappears to, no matter how you disconnect, you are always tethered back to these bones, this flesh
these bones and flesh that are more like a cage to the soul inside
these bones and flesh that define you but aren’t you
these bones and flesh from which you can’t escape
these bones and flesh that make your melody a morose one,
when you know your heart leaps and dances like the trees and sings like the air
because even in the space you know you are safe
you are always a prisoner in your flesh
never truly alone, never free to dance like the trees and sing like the air
you play the melody of your prison because you have nothing else,
an orchestra of dysphoria and dysmorphia, playing your wrists like violins to let out the tunes
because in this place you hear everything
you can hear your heart beat and you can feel every pulse that travels through your body
The pace speeding, faster and harder, you can feel it thrashing through your veins in protest, almost as if it knows your intentions
the sound of your body deteriorating from an orchestral calm to sonic chaos, everything inside trying to force its way out
and for a moment, you become as blank and clear as water, because in that moment you fall
the trees around you dance and the air sings as it rushes past your falling body
you feel the earth absorb your melodies and the show comes to an abrupt end and the orchestra take their final bow
maybe your music will, in time, become soil for a new tree to dance
in that place where the air sings
a whistling breeze.
– Matthew George A.
