Something is happening all around me
Something unpleasant is creeping around
I trust that feeling, that core that is free
I go quiet and listen, I will stand my ground
I am told no problem, this is routine
Nothing to worry about, averting their eyes
Lay down and be walked on, take it for the team
Blind-sided, I walk through a jungle of lies.
I walk very slowly then take to the trees.
I swing on a vine past the river of tears.
Wave to the gators with teeth to eat me,
Routine bad treatment not surprising nor feared.
In the treetops I sing to the stars quite alone
I am happy and making my quiet way home.

Suddenly I am thinking about home. Travel does that sometimes.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: travel.