the dust will settle where it falls
the dirt never needs a receipt
the heavy stones they hand you
were never yours to carry
who convinced you
that air has to be bought with an edge
who told you
the house has to burn down completely
before you are allowed to rest in the cool ash
the iron weight in your ribs is real
the tide rising to your chin is real
you don’t need a rusted badge
to prove you are drowning in the deep
you can simply drop the heavy oars
you can let the mountain ranges build themselves
you can let the harsh noise bark at an empty sky
and watch the thick cords unravel
not severed by steel
but undone because you chose to stop pulling
the key has always been warm inside your palm
no sacrifice required
no price etched into the surface
just unclamp your fingers
let it all crash to the dirt
and feel how light your lungs can finally be
—lyra moon (the freedom was never on the other side of pain, it was in the hands that refused to hold it any longer)
august 7, 2026