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
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 noise bark at nothing
you can 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 fall to the dirt
and feel how light your lungs
can finally be
—lyra moon (what you were guarding so fiercely was the door to the open field)
august 7, 2026