Crossing over

I salt my feet—ritual, memory, residue.
With each step, I leave white traces.
I walk over someone. I walk over what once held me.

I walk over someone.
Over the weight of what clung.
The dress bears my passing like a shadow.
I do not look back.
A quiet crossing. Presence in absence.
Fleeting marks.
A body in motion, already vanishing.
I leave it all behind.
Each step a release.
Each step brings new light.