Free

Free

A cloudless blue sky is cut short by the jagged edges of Los Andes.

She sits alone listening to the rumbles of a mountain stream,

Her mind floating between the sun beating down upon her shoulders

And the small things she loves about this world.

Racing down the mountains, around sharp corners, and pushing furiously over rocks,

Crystal clear water fills the rocky creek.

While only two meters wide,

This stream is a vital life source to the life around it.

A butterfly lands on the rock next to her.

White wings capped with black edging flutter peacefully

From the rock, to a dandelion and off into the abyss.

The mountains call her and she feels at home.

She has not had a moment like this since she left home;

She has not stopped to rest,

Or simply pause to enjoy the sunshine as it beats down upon her.

In the city, she is in motion and focused.

She is held down by the square city block, the pressures of society,

And the never-ending commotion of people, honking cars, and city streets.

But here, she is free.

Free to dance with fire,

To dip her toes into an icy river,

To throw stones as far and long as she can,

To lose herself in a sea of stars,

To breathe the wild air.

Free is what she needs.

Only in these moments, in the foothills of the mountains,

Can she see the damage she has done to herself.

Her mind is focused,

But not on planning, accomplishing, regretting, or worrying.

She examines the precise angles of the mighty peaks in front of her.

She counts the stars, losing track after the first hundred.

She studies herself and her inner workings.

As she returns to her average life,

She must not forget the silence of the wilderness

And how to silence her mind.

She must pause like a butterfly on a dandelion

And shine like a star in the night sky.

She must remember to set herself free.