You caught me in the death rattle
In the dying final breaths of a former life
A life clinging with sharp claws and poison fangs
Cloaked in a patchwork of burrs, evidence of the weeds wrestled with
Some days I march forward looking ahead at the path, dappled with sunlight
Some days I must tend to the broken skin that the claws drew open
Forward forward always forward
Progress only apparent to the patient observer
The former life more distant day by day
The irony that all there is and ever was is right now