The cat, I guess,
in the sense that I understand myself,
there is an independence in my soul,
a quiet permission
to stay
and to go.

Not all departures
are loud.
Some are scheduled
like next week,
like a quiet decision
made long before the body moves.

People gather,
spin in the same world
we pretend is fixed,
though nothing ever stays
where we leave it.

I think
maybe I should stretch out a bit—
like a cat in morning light,
testing the length of my own bones.

There is still so much wild
left for me to explore.

So much air
I have not yet breathed.

And sometimes
I feel like I hear something—
a whisper
just beyond my understanding.

A small darkness
has been circling my soul.

Not attacking.
Not leaving.

Just waiting.

Maybe I should accept it,
give it something to hold,
instead of pretending
it does not belong to me.

Because there are parts of me
that need cutting away—
old habits,
old fears,
old skins that no longer fit.

And yet
those very things
have given me something new—
a sharper edge,
a clearer sight,
a language
I did not know I had.

So there are things
that must be said.

Truths that hover
at the edge of the tongue.

I wonder
how much is left
for you to know about me
how much remains
unspoken
between now
and whatever comes next.

But that is today.

Today is the best
national day there is,
the day I am still here,
still stretching,
still listening
for what calls me forward.

Like a cat
watching the doorway—
ready
to leave
or stay.