Rising by Christian Camacho

I walked with my insecurities by the river
Listening to the babbling of the waters.
Slowly, the river pushes at the bank,
pulls the bed from its place
until it has torn its self apart.

I left my anger in the jungle.
A fallen leaf rotting on the primal floor
A bright green bud in its place
Renewed by the rising sun
Waiting to sprout anew

I threw my jealousy into the ocean
And the cold sand and colder waters
drowned what was left of it
it sank to the bottom
As its last bits of air burst on the surface

I balanced my contentment on the edge of a cliff
Teetering back and forth like a child learning to walk
The salted air drifting over the top toward the sun
I braced myself for the fall
Closed my eyes and leaped to the rising tide


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