Twenty-three.

I can see the clearing
at the end of this path
for the first time
in twenty-five years.

I'm being pushed
towards it by my age,
my education,
and I don't know what
I'll do when I get there.

It's a joyous moment
cloaked in fear -
now my choices
are my own and so
are my mistakes.

But with each step
my head is clearing
of the forest's fog,
of the voices that aren't
my own. Still the
end is so broad, so
bright, so terrifying.