Trigger Warning
I did not come to steal,
yet the day insisted otherwise.
There are things this world hoards improperly:
silence, dignity, unrecorded joy.
At the edge of town, the river said,
You are late.
I answered, Only by the clock’s account.
The river laughed and kept moving.
A man on the bridge asked what I carried.
Nothing, I said.
Then you are dangerous, he replied,
and stepped aside.
I learned early that ownership is a rumor.
The pine does not possess its needles.
The fox signs no contract with the dark.
Even the stone relinquishes itself to time.
I took back my hours from the market.
I reclaimed my breath from obligation.
I lifted my name from the mouths
that spoke it without knowing me.
In the woods, a voice asked,
What do you intend to do with freedom?
I said, Listen.
This seemed to satisfy it.
The true heist requires no mask.
It happens in daylight,
when one refuses to perform
the expected surrender.
By evening, the air felt lighter,
as if relieved of a debt.
The stars appeared without escort.
No authority objected.
If I am guilty of anything,
let it be this:
I broke into the quiet
and never gave it back.