freedom came in gradations by Nadia Gerassimenko

first came insomnia
before incubi met me
on the other side.
reality was most unreal
nightmare of all.
screeching in my womb
–intuitive, relentless–
told me you are toxin,
& i endured with pretext:
i’m the crazy one/
i must change.

then came in questions:
what are we doing?
where are we going?
where do i stand?
i always hoped
to make a deal with god
& swap our places.
to see & be as one.
i let in without resistance
what came after,
after all:

de-tach-ment.

it came disillusioned
& there was devastation.
physically we separated,
phantom limbs remained & wailed.
the distance & un-closure
ripped our strings more tearingly,
but without haste.
i cried for deliverance
every dreadful night.
& even if i could have spited you,
i prayed for you in spite of me.
for harmony & love for us–
not together.

from dusk came daybreak
seen through windowed cracks.
epiphany birthed in me,
i stood & shredded
leftovers of pain-body
& boxed our mementos
to flow in seven currents
of hochelaga.
with last tears & silent prayer
to pay you my respects,
i let you go,

i un-attached.

(i kept a thought with me
if ever i unlearned:
freedom always comes.
it comes in gradations,
with relapses,
only then progression.
we build self-immunity
to heartbreaks.
even without closure,
we can make our hearts
again unbroken.)

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Nadia Gerassimenko is an Assistant Editor at Luna Luna Magazine by day, a moonchild and poet by night. Nadia self-published her first poetry collection “Moonchild Dreams” (2015) and hopes to republish it traditionally. She’s currently working on her second chapbook, “a chair, a monologue.” Visit her at tepidautumn.net or tweet her at @tepidautumn.

Photo credit: Larry D. Thacker http://www.larrydthacker.com