Camping in the Concrete Jungle: Escape

Suffocating, like plastic bag has been wrapped around my head to slowly steal away my oxygen in the moments between the inhale and exhale.
It’s not enough to live in houses with concrete walls anymore; there must be concrete sidewalks and streets, and grocery stores and shops, and churches and steeples. New, grey stoned barricades are rising up in every direction as the morning’s pass by and turn days into nights and nights into the past.

This monochromatic landscape facing off against my vibrant spirit is slowly crushing my heart and soul, dealing blow after blow to the verdant imagination that ran rampant throughout my childhood. These concrete walls, though filled with glitter and glamour, are turning living into a prison sentence filled with rules and expectations calling for perfection… or else.
People who’s hearts have been turned to stone by social construction pass by, with hallowed eyes and angry grimaces, hovering in an eternal state of contempt, yet yearning for nothing more.

In a panicked frenzy, the concrete car packed with goods from concrete buildings, steals me away from the concrete town before my soul gives itself over to the figment called reality. Rushing to the coast it finds salty ocean breezes tainted by an aftertaste of rusty metal and pavement. In a desperate turn, it reroutes its course to the winding highways, climbing higher and higher into the clouds as if a temporary fog covering could hide the vast expanse of concrete that stretches out below. A turn onto a dirt road jolts awake tired bones and heavy eyelids but restoration has yet to be found.

Stop, park, exit.

Feet drag a living corpse off the trail and into the thickened brush and stiff hands search for branches to tie a hammock to until an appropriate shelter has formed.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathing in the life of the forest as if it were my own, the chilled night air rejuvenates the dying spirit within the dark cavern we call “body.” And in this moment, all is right, all is new, and anything is possible.

But lingering deep in the back of my heart I know, that even though I’ve escaped to the woods, I’m still camping in the middle of a concrete jungle.

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One thought on “Camping in the Concrete Jungle: Escape

  1. Wow. Wow! This gave me chills. You expressed the sentiment so perfectly, painting a picture of this struggle in such a beautiful composition of words. Thank you for sharing your gift with us! God bless as He guides each breath in the concrete jungle

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