The Hinterland

Unpublished old prose written on April 8, 2023.

I was miles away until I stumbled my way back here. My footprints called for me, spoke from the ether, said to me, you’re not too far off but be careful because you could fall into a ravine somewhere. It’s beautiful but you don’t want to break yourself just to get there. Those kind of shortcuts are a dead end, and they’re not the kind you can detour from.

Take your time, do your time, we still have lifetimes to go before we rest for good. Peaks and pinnacles are waiting, with horizons waiting for you to lay your mind in. Low tides to chase, passing through lines where the ocean meets the sky. There are footprints running parallel with yours, ones that aren’t too far behind. Ones that’ll catch up to you again. Ones next to you if you look at the right time. Then little pitter patter, maybe one maybe more growing beside you. Many people will leave but the right ones will stay. And if they’re not there yet, they’re on their way. Remember you are never alone, not even in solitude. The sky isn’t out of reach. Space, too. Especially when you stare at it long enough. Especially when it mimics the inside of your eyelids.

Maybe you found your way back there for a reason, because you got scared of the things that made you. Like the womb, the darkness is a portal too, and you’ve been there before, stumbling your way back out again.

This time, just bare skin, no armor. This time, just spirit over matter.