Freedom From the Ruins(a poem)

They said to throw the hurt out of the window.

Which part of it goes though? And which part remains?

For I may have invested myself a little too much to be feeling this excruciating pinch; or so it felt, at first.

Once the ice melts into the water, does the chill it gives decipher which component was initially solid?

They said to throw it out of the window as if I held it in hand.

But they’d forgotten that the window was not an option. 

This feeling could only be transferred.

But what kind of packaging might I use?

Or is this a recipe I can start again from scratch?

They said forget it! Forget it ever happened.

But it happened.

So how do I forget that I have to forget?

How about remembering to remember?

How about remembering that what defines today is today.

How about remembering that my footprint touches which floor my brain asks it to.

How about remembering that I have a choice to cultivate freedom from the ruins.

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