Growing Down


I’m growing down

Not up into the sky.

Not to a higher vantage point

Where I can see more and feel

The vastness and greatness of the world

But down, deep down

Away from ledges and windows

Down into myself

Where I can see nothing but the walls

Where I can hear nothing but my own panicked pulse

I am growing in

Not out into the world like a vine

Or a tree branch

Stretching and expanding into life

But in, far inward

Like a fungus or a cancer

That eats away the life

And leaves a trail of soft weak refuse.

A sign of death, not life.

I’m growing timid,

Not wise and bold

Like a sage or matriarch

But cautious and paranoid.

Like an anxiety-ridden lunatic.

Or maybe, just maybe,

I’m growing in to come out.

I’m growing down to come back up again.

I’m growing cautious to learn boldness.

And not lunacy, but brilliance.

The only way to know

Is to continue to grow.


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