{ slap } - yogi. biker. writer. mama. austin, tx

It started with a rainy ride.
White shorts, chambray, and streaming tears.
It's easy to cry in public when it's raining.
Only I knew, because raindrops don't taste like salt dipped heartbreak.
Muddy splashes into my shoes and my ankles covered in dirt.
I'd have thrown myself into a ditch for full emersion if I were back home.
It was foggy and I dove into my penance.
Thank god for the slap.
Verdant leaves heavy with the rain whipped my right shoulder.
I sped up.
A spark of hope.
Light emerging in my darkness.
Old drops fell as leaves could retain no more and released them to cleanse me.
This was my life and the magic air I used to breathe.
Through tunnels and under trains, was I riding or flying?
Something carried me or I was floating.
What I'm sure of is that I let something go.
Something daunting and that did not belong to me.
That sludge was not mine.
I'd have to open up, say it.
The more I share the more I receive.
I don't want to go back to that cave.
I want the grass to brush my legs.
I want the wind to muss my hair.
I want to feel pockets of cool amid the steamy Texas air.
I want to stay awake for this life, no matter what.