The Middle — How I found myself there and struggled in form to it. (Advanced Writing Workshop Timed Freewrite)

From where do I come? I have no answer. I go everywhere. I am a sojourner.

I have felt the heat from the desert boil me. I have felt the bite of the tundra freeze me. I have lost my way deep in the jungle. And I have howled across open plains.

I fall and crash. I rumble.

I meander.

And there are times when I collect myself. My dark belly moors these still moments and spans. It is there, at my very bottom, I am cold and motionless. My innards hang featureless and comatose.

Layer on layer covers my slumber.

Parts of me drift and drive, yet I return. I compress into myself and slumber.

Though, rarely can I be still. It is inevitable that I move. I do not resist the pull from beneath me and the flow from within me. I am alive when I dance! Swirling, tumbling, rolling, moving along.

Under the brilliant eye’s gaze, I dance. I arch my spine. My limbs weave. Joyful tears swell and fall through the air. Under his gaze all of my movements shimmer.

From mountain peaks I plunge. Steep gorges are my tracks, and widening valleys are my ways. The arching horizon will always be my destination. I lay out my palms upon the earth and stretch out my fingers. I press into the warm ground. I push against it. I feel it give and move along with my body.

In his absence, I dance. I bath in the cool blue cast and wander the blanketed night. My heart is quieter though my pace remains.

I am a sojourner.

My dancing releases me. I come to myself, and here I swell. I leap. My eyes open wide and I see more of myself than I ever have before. My mouth gapes. I am overwhelmed by something new and deep. Something powerful. Violent.

I explode. I throw my hands up, arms jutting into the air. My locks are a mist in motion. Again. Again. And again. I slide away and then surge forward. I explode! My dance is vitality. It is energy. Violence.

Lap after lap. I collect myself. Drunk.

What is this? Parts of me taken. What is this? I feel parts of me fouled.

My dance is interrupted.

I see them gathering to my side. One extends a touch, and I slide along her rough, dry hand. There is something to it … So I smile and continue my dance. I am drawn out. Again and again. Relentless, they cause me to stumble. But I continue to dance.

As I dance, their presence grows. They have now crowded my way. They have intersected the horizon. More touches. More and more touches. They go everywhere.

I am their captive. They continue to draw more of me away.

Now, I linger in their shadows and stumble along hard edges of their steel and concrete. They corral me amidst their trophies of grass and trees and sculptures. They force me to dance in cages beautiful, dreadful.

Here the brilliant eye’s gaze is stern and unwavering. I lie still under his gaze. I recoil amidst his fumes. And they draw more away.

Here in his absence, I wallow. My exhale is foul. And In the icy blue cast, my complexion is an oil slick.

They pour into me their bitterness and their mistakes. They demand me to carry it away. But the weight of it all, how can I dance?

Exhausted. I am languid.

Once more they gather to my side. Afraid to touch, they begin to cry. I see their tears, big drops of me. Now I know.

They are a part of me.

But my cooling kiss can no longer sustain. It has evaporated. In its place expands a greater thirst.