me at fourteen
at fifteen
i didn’t question
your packing up my life
in a garbage bag
and sending me to gramma’s
i wanted my freedom
i saw being sent away
as you giving it to me
i thought i had won
at twenty five
i didn’t question
abandoning my marriage
and two children
to recapture the freedom
i perceived
as having been stolen from me
surely the end
would justify the means
at thirty five
i didn’t question
getting clean
i knew it was
either quit- or die
i chose to live
as too much freedom
had in the end
taken me hostage
at forty five
i looked into
the eyes of a woman
i had never seen before
she told me
that fifteen year olds
don’t get garbage bags
full of freedom
that twenty five year olds
can disappear- but
they can never really
leave their children behind
that thirty five year olds
never really get clean,,
they just quit using….
and that the only way
to ever really catch freedom
is to stop running….
