where are you? it’s midnight / the lantern is lit, but no one has returned.
passenger, tell me -
have you seen august? she is a memory of faded bronze light / eyes closed against rising heat, lips / peeling like rotting peaches / stale afternoon breeze against / hands, dirty / nail beds of grass stains / crushed butterfly wings / almost-echos of a name against picket fences / & the same summer stars in an older sky / familiarity fades like colors against the horizon / & the beating of the heart begins to mimic the crescendo of cicada song / melodies of serrated blades & unknown tongues / could you fall asleep to cacophony like this / because it never goes silent / wanderer when you dream tonight / & all the places you’ve been / dream of her / love her like salvation / fall on your knees / make her into what you want to believe
wayfarer,
have you visited holy ground? held sacred and precious, untouched and wild with the perfume of dusted hymnals and wilted flowers / windows stained in shades of shepherd’s blood and deities vaulted high, dripping with heavenly light / faded, falling onto pews blemished by the marks of impatient children and families undeserving of grace / there was a time i knew these scars by heart, when i could recite prayer like a lover’s name / the candles are burnt out after all this time, but there’s still enough light to make out a silhouette / can you see enough of me yet? reach for me through the heavy dark / i know it’s hard to speak, but say my name like scripture off your tongue / say genesis / run your mouth like redemption, like i’m worth saving / remind me how to worship like i once did
stranger,
have you ever met yourself?
in another universe i name myself goddess. i name myself ambition, burning lungs and all. there is no hand around my neck, waiting to crack my esophagus like the breaking of the dawn. my voice is in tune instead of 50 cents flat and my heart beats in time to the rest of the world - in another universe, this body is allowed to be mine. for now i pretend my body is a costume and wear it like velvet night decorated in stars. like melodies draped in lyrics and flowers soaked in morning dew. but i am not the night; i am not the obligato of a symphony or a sprawling garden. i am just aching for this body to finally feel like my own.
/
what will my becoming look like? i am waiting for it, for the moment i burst into being like the dawn of time; violently and immeasurable - unapologetic. i am telling myself that when i make it through next week, i will be closer than i am now. i am still here, searching for pieces of myself everywhere but between my ribs. i am still slicing myself open in the name of creation and hoping for new light. what am i for it?
traveler, you have spent so much time away you forgot what permanency feels like. your feet are chapped and bleeding but your mind is still seeking; you are desperate for a feeling on your tongue you cannot name. in your dreams you can feel it, self-possession and unity: something like release. what you don’t know is that it is all laid out in front of you, waiting for you to come out of your false perception. what you don’t see is that all these moments of worn pages and folded clothes aren’t for nothing. these moments of twilight and solace are living proof you are growing roots. these quiet motions are proof you’re homeward bound. it’s time to lay your search to rest.
weary wanderer, you have spent too much time away from here / it’s okay to come home now.
