I freed myself from the footpath:
the old neural pathways remembered,
they had to be interrupted;
new paths formed,
clearing back the old brush and bracken,
the entanglements perpetually beckoning.
I freed myself but found
that the path was a traffic loop,
the signs all there.
And the breaking away,
the bracken brushed away,
was a practice not unlike
a new kind of breathing.
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