I can do this thing, this silence and self- determining, the no- voice no hand no care business that was full of fret and distress, now falls from me like an old black and heavy coat I discard and need no more - I can walk the streets knowing what I'm for, what I do, where I go, why I'm here - the place I was is clear to me now and it feeds, not fades and so I raise myself above the parapet to smell the air - I wake to be here and in the silence live and grow.next poem