the Sky is just the Sky but I say

It arrives unannounced, every time, I tell him, whispering to not scare it away. I never know until it is here. He nods, but only from knowing my whims so many years. 

I woke at 6:30 this morning, blinds all the way up and a slow dawn stretching over Brooklyn, and I knew it was here. I could feel it in the tingle of my toes, in the way my breath reaches the bottom of my lungs for the first time in eons. I knew it in the way my brain whispered possibility in the face of obstacle, I hear it in the way my work lays at the wayside in favor of my own creative whims and I am not sorry. 

It's been two very, very long years, my dear, it's been unimaginable strains on our humanity and a weight in our collective chest I never knew we could carry. But we did carry it, and now we're allowed to let it go. 

This is me telling you I'm letting it go. 

This is me telling you I will leave this weight here,
and from now on I will
fly.