Threshold

This grass so lacked of rain—
I can hear the ghosts 
of my selves step with me. Splintering
blades echo. Snap
my neck again and
again. But I cannot see what I hear.

I am healing. 
Family fallacies shape us as a silo does grain—
until gravity is sprung.

This gravity—the gift of my fifties.
Relinquish my skin to the earth. 
Let it slew on off my bones.
I won’t hold on to my youth 
if letting go means finally being free. 

The distance between myself and selves

has never been so vast
nor the strike of snares so deafening.
I can hear the wholeness coming.

ANGELA DRIBBEN

Angela Dribben is an astrologer and writer living in the Appalachian region of Virginia. She recently cofounded Great_Goodness, a YouTube show highlighting the good creatives put into the world. Her writing can be found in Orion, Split Rock Review, and more. Find Angela at www.twodogtarot.com and @Great_Goodness on YouTube.