Poetry Project 2017: Day 150

Not unhinged,
untethered.
Not tied to a person,
not held down by a place.

Drifting.
No map,
no current,
stuck in the wind.

Blowing wherever the wild wind goes.
Tangled in torn up roots,
I'm not held down,
but I'm not free.

I'm at the mercy of the wind.
Lost and adrift,
in the air,
in life.

I'm untethered and rootless,
and sometimes, not always,
but sometimes, 
long for lost roots.

Sturdiness. 
Security
in the place where 
I was born and raised.

But I left.
Now I float,
untethered 
and alone.
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