light shimmers.
like memory,
it searches for
form in the long
withdrawing waves.
reflections fracture.
the surface is vacant.
something ignites,
a teardrop of faith,
and we gather courage
to look upward.
only for a moment,
enough to say
we dared,
enough to think
we too
might be gods.
i pressed a leaf
between the pages of a book
in a chapter i
haven’t read yet.
it was a dark purple leaf
with crimson veins
from a season that has already passed
from a season i wanted to keep
saved in a timeless moment,
like a child laughing at
the rain.
a child who hasn’t grown jaded yet,
always curious,
and free,
always feeling safe
even in the unknown,
at home with questions,
questions wrapped up in life,
and life itself held as a question.
i dreamed last night.
i couldn’t find my pen.
wait, that’s not quite right.
i didn’t really lose it.
it was just hiding from me.
that’s different.
i couldn’t write anything.
my fingers felt tangled.
and without it,
nothing made sense
at all.
maybe this sounds confusing.
but it isn’t.
in my dream, i woke up
and saw the pen
was in my bed, and it had burst
now i was covered
in thick ink
that flowed over my body
and eventually into my mouth.
when i tried to speak,
i gurgled
and jumbled
and tangled thoughts
spilled out of my mouth.
onebreathpoetry.com 