At Night

At Night, thoughts become clear, unmuddled as if I extricate myself from what the outer world wishes me to be. Softness flows down dreamy rivulets where once sweat strode. Daytime armor is shed with the anxiety of social interaction and societal expectations. In three words, "I am free."
I'm a snow white dove aloft, soaring without restraint. I'm the downtrodden peasant that can freely weep my distress and safely discharge my heavy, cumbersome burdens minus any fear of reprisal or whip. Furrowed brow lightens and painted smile wiped clean. I am free to show my pale, fragile, scarred skin. My expedited pace slows to a leisurely saunter. No knife at my back, nor carrot dangling above my nose.
The ancestral noose has dissolved into innocuous threads falling through splayed hands. Long sought safety, the restorative joy of silence, soothe me as no lover can.
I exalt the night as I move, heal in claritys' light.