warped reflection swims like watery milk above the puddle
full of doubts that don't drip but pour down into its cacophonous depths.
a medley of sorrows curdle then swirl down the drain
and the red faced goddess of this rain continues to squeeze the clouds.
she sits not on a throne of pride and substance and joy
but falls gracelessly to the slab of the cold countertop below.
how terrible her thunder cries into the blank and lonely void
that no decent person can listen
and no indecent person can laugh.
what is this creature who calls so helplessly for times past
and looks for answers to unanswerable questions?
who wanders hopelessly in search of a paved path onwards
and stumbles along without a compass?
who gazes into a mirror without feeling of recognition
and drags its ugly head through a fog of fear?
it is me.
it is me that was born on the edge of a sunrise
and sprung up in green shoots and greener leaves
and found my voice in the bird song on the back porch
and grew legs to run here and there and back again
and made a home in the unending expanse of dirt
and pulled joy straight out of thin air.
it is me that greeted the trees as a child
and painted the sky with a brown swipe of ponytail
and danced beside the morning's grasshoppers
and lept over oceans of emerald carpet
and paced through my kingdom with a ball beneath me
and instantly fell in love.
it is me that wrote poems in knee scrapes and bruises
and spoke in footsteps woven through the grass
and learned in a classroom of ceaseless movement
and conquered the turf as a plane of my own
and ate only the sweet fruit of youthful bliss
and built a beautiful world out of myself.
at least it was me.
that evergreen child lived through the tide of many seasons
and blossomed in full color in the midst of her green expanse.
she grew agile wings that lifted her through the years
and swaddled her in the pure jubilation of breathlessness
and enveloped her in exhausted comfort.
a captain of the beautiful vessel that she had claimed as her own
and rode tirelessly amidst the viridescent waves.
a maestro conducting a concerto of raw conscious
that sounded a flawless melody of instinct and intuition and finesse.
she was unmatched.
she was unmarred.
she was unafraid.
so how did that sweet fruit rot?
it happened in the small space that rests in between seconds
but continues to echo its awful cry through distant infinities
and lodges itself in the grain that textures the present.
she danced among the silken blades of her kingdom
in a loving embrace of the leathered sphere below
that seesawed in a familiar lullaby between her feet
and graced the ground in strokes of euphoric freedom.
the alignment of earth and human that had held for so long
broke in one simple slip of her shoe.
deafening sorrow pours unrestrained from her lips as she falls
down to the territory she had once navigated
and she is no longer a cherub of youthful passion
but has transformed in that space, that hideous crack in time
into a pitiful animal shot down by a stray bullet.
she is me.
the crime of losing innocent love to the whims of the cruel universe
scars her as she can no longer make sense of anything
and she no longer hears the bird song or sees the grasshoppers
and she cannot dance because she cannot even walk.
her wounds fester as the kingdom she once ruled
perishes in flames of agony and she can only watch from her bed
as the fruits of her garden starve.
a face now reddened by the hardship of loss stares vacantly into the mirror
and it does not recognize the creature that gazes back.
what does one do when all they have ever done
and all they have ever wanted to do
turns its back and starts walking away
without ever saying goodbye?
how can one find solace
in the golden hue of numerous tomorrows
and hope in the sheen of endless opportunity
when there is no light with which to look for them?
i am still not entirely sure.
what i do know is that the hideous creature
of doubt and pain and sorrow lives on
but so does that cherub of my youth
and for now they coexist inside of me
as a pair of bickering sisters.
some days they fight and argue continuously
and some days they are quiet and leave me alone
and some days i succumb to irritation over their noise
and some days i can block it out completely.
through darkness and sunshine
and wind and rain
they keep me company
as i continue to trek onwards
for my lost vessel
for the land of my past
for my scorched kingdom
so that i can rebuild it again.
it will not be perfect
and it will not be discovered easily
but at least i can look forward
to finding it
to creating it
to falling in love all over again.