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.