It’s hard, the way I’m living sometimes. Sometimes I just want to bust right out of my skin, feel like my head is going to explode. I need to feel free. My muscles and heart and skin and eyes and hands and small of my back need to be emancipated. I’m aching to live life with a passion I feel consuming me from the inside, burning up in my eyes, with nowhere to go. I want to love with a ferocity that I am not allowed. I want to move and burst forth and navigate and overcome with aggressive strength and confidence that I do not possess. I want to feel the sky flowing around me and the ground beneath my feet and the water pushing against my skin and the fire burning in my lungs. I want to hear and smell and touch and taste and feel like I never have before in my life. I have the capacity for it. I have the burning hunger for all of these things. I am desperate, I am feral, I am reared, pawing and the sky. I have felt alive, again and again, more so and more so until I have been awakened to such an extent that I can no longer go back to sleep. I cannot stop sucking these giant deep breaths and wanting more and more and more. I cannot stop wanting to be free, after I’ve tasted it, a thimble of fatal nectar, alluringly dangerous and perfect. So sweet, that I feel myself dying after I have tasted it, each moment its droplets are not on my lips burning me dry. I am hungry and thirsty and barren all at once. I want to find my home in the song of the earth and be swallowed up by it and those who love it, belonging, a part of something that is at once myself and not, better, more perfect, I am whole with it and with who. I want to enter the Spirit song of the One who made it all, and not be afraid to feel, and feel rightly, and with a brightness that surpasses everything I can see.
I want to be חוֹפֶשׁ, and חוֹפֶשׁ me.