Freedom Burns My Bones
I gather myself
in the bathtub
crouching in its heat
How can it be that I’ve lived in this house
three years and this is my first bath
Why have I deprived myself this pleasure
When I no longer believe
that suffering will save me
I want to live like the heroine
in the book
The independent one
who makes her own decisions
or feels remorse and does it anyway
The bath water is so hot
it makes the cold air
on my naked body
Freedom burns my bones
And I melt into the sun.
6 thoughts on “Freedom Burns My Bones”
Goodness Maria – I’ve even taken a bath in your house!
Enjoy, you’ve earned it.
Well I never expected to see that on my comments Deb. I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it!
I read this as I was sipping hot tea. Perfect! I like to leave my tea bags in my tea until the very end. At one point in my life I wondered, “Is this okay? Socially acceptable to leave my tea bag in my tea? Isn’t it proper to pull it out?” How crazy! The freedom of not caring burns my bones.
Don’t we all have our things Nicole.
Such a beautiful poem so ripe with meaningful angst!! My intention is to live long enough to finally DO all those things I deprived myself of in my younger days, even if simple as a bath!! Annie
yes, Annie, lets get to it!