Last night I ran through a cornfield, barefoot and fearless – a savage dressed in flowers. I ran and the stalks turned to felt because I wanted them to, and when we kissed inside the spider webs, the spiders trickled down my back and I was not afraid because I didn’t want to be. It was easy.
Today, in sunlight next to water, I look at my bruised, defeated feet and scratch the spider bites with scratched hands.
“It’s too hard,” I say, afraid again of everything I can and cannot see, and bury my broken feet in the sand.