Walking fearlessly through the jungle,

Something small
finds my ankle.

Slips under fabric—
a silent tangle.
No sound.
No warning.

A quiet numbness,
a chemical silence,
anchors itself
to my skin.

No feeling.
Keep walking.

It drinks,
and drinks,
and drinks...

Slow.
Greedy.
Voracious.

No mercy,
no shame.
A private violence.

Still I move forward
through light and shadow,

Until—
it is full
and lets go.

I look down.

A mark remains.

Poison?
A serpent’s script?
An ending?

Nothing ends.

I am still here.
Warm.
Breathing.

Then a quiet opening,

It did not take life.
It took the SILT.

Something dark
hidden for too long,

Years of stillness
drawn out in silence.

And I feel lighter.
Stronger.
Able to walk further and further.

I keep going.
Walking.
Jumping.
Running.

Carrying the etched trace
once fed on me—

like a quiet blessing
hidden in the wound.

📸:Korean illustrator Aeppol (애뽈)

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