Protected

As my pen crossed the paper today, I wondered
are there some things better left as a feeling
than placed on a page
for anyone to drag through their thoughts
to touch, pull, mold like clay

Maybe, if you’re here to survive
you think you must hold your emotions
cupped nervously between your palms
pressed to your chest
protected

But if you know that safety
is no better than mud
trying to swallow you whole
you know that true freedom lies
when you

trace your fingers slowly
down a crisp, blank piece of paper and
let flowers flow down your arm with conviction
into to the collective ocean
now, a boulder that no one can move