Toxicity

Moving on is not linear.

Some steps are monumental,
toes tracing mountaintops
and knees brushing clouds.

Many nights are missteps,
tripping over
what was once
swept under,
sometimes
forgotten pain
but often lost joy.

Memories resurface
of a life so long gone.
The shutter still snaps
but the prints won’t develop.

Even the devil has his smooth ways,
and you had yours too on your better days.

I remember, I refocus. I recall I am a lotus.
Up out of the mud and into the light,
unfurling white petals that reflect bliss,
that repel whatever you call this.

Toxicity loosens its grip
and I wriggle out of something
that looked great on the rack
but never fit.