Hands Up-by Kathy T. Camp

Hands around my neck
I gasp for air.
My arms are free, but
I don’t seem to know how to use them.
I wave them up and down like
a baby bird, hoping to take flight
from the heavy stone tied to my ankles.

As I begin to growl in an attempt
to cry out, “I can’t breathe!”
Words on a wrinkled paper, written in bold black marker
hover in front of me,
suspended by an invisible energy.

“Hands up. Turn around.”
Two messages soak into my head
As my body begins to fall limp
in desperation, I throw my hands up
surrrendering all, and spin away from the
thing in front of me.

I take a step in the opposite direction
cool air floods into my lungs.
I begin to jog, then run
with my hands still in the air
as a runner does when taking a
victory lap after winning the race.

I have won, but I’m not at the end of the race
I have won the chance to start the race.
Full of life, full of air
I run, hair flowing behind me.

Birds of many types escort me.
I run towards the river and dive in.
Cool water covers me and washes
away years of grime and pain
and fear.
I emerge, spin around with
arms outstretched, reaching towards
the sun.
Smiling.