The elation is bubbling, it’s brewing inside,
wanting to escape my body, making my fingers want to twitch
and hands flap, like a great torrential tide.
I know I can release it,
no-one’s said I can’t.
Yet the stares and whispers from ghosts
keep the iron-grip I have on myself
as powerful as an attack with a lance.
But if I do it when no-one’s looking,
release the hold bit by bit,
perhaps I can let myself flick out this ball of energy
and have it leave me content and happy
without shaming myself to quit.
Treeshallow Musings 