It begins as a splinter of light,

pressing through the fractures of a long ago sealed door.

A whisper at first, a ragged breath against silence,

but growing, insistent.

A call that will not be swallowed,

will not be forgotten.

The bones remember before the mind does.

Fingers twitch, lungs expand,

something deep beneath the ribs

stirs, stretches.

A phantom ache of what was lost,

what is waiting.

The past clings with frigid fingers,

coiling around sluggish limbs,

a ghostly hush of lullabies, begging to keep you still.

But the body aches forward,

Muscle and marrow answering a truth written within.

No gentle rise, no time for a slow bloom,

this is a rupture, a shattering.

Breaking open, becoming.

The self unravels, unwinds,

spilling into the world like a river untamed,

Weight and flight all at once,

the staggering terror of unsteady trembling steps,

the wild exhilaration upon finding solid ground under nervous feet.

The shock of cold air, an electric pulse from crown to sole,

the sting of eyes meeting the unyielding glory of the sun.

And welcome,

the first full breath,

the first taste of air, sharp and sweet,

alive.