Budding Abolitionist

My heart wants out of my chest

Though they taught me long ago to imprison it, this thumping mass of muscle is resisting in new ways by returning to the old ways

I am bound to follow the resisters

to abandon policing [myself and others]. to abandon imaginary lines and boxes.

Hand to chest. Face to fresh air. Flesh beneath fingers, parsing down to sinew and bone. I am tearing down the prison. Heart bursting forth unto liberation rhythms.

And repeat. Until we all are free.