Write about your blessings. About what it was like to wake up today, about the people you love, about the songs that have lifted your spirits. Write about the wind in the trees, or of rebirth in spring, or of freedom. Write about whatever gives you life, which—especially in troubled times, we remember—is so precious.
I feel the sky on my tongue
A matte silky baby blue,
The fields stretching far far in front of me
Behind, all around.
The grass a shade of green I'd construct from a colour wheel,
brushing my calves I could get
lost
the word has never brought such contentment before.
I remember the feeling,
Chugging upward on the edge of the world
It is like the trees knew it had to make an entrance
had been somehow pruned in tempo and placement.
Well-educated, cultivated trees
because when the time came their canopy held on for just a second long enough
as if it had to first contract in its grandeur
before it burst into view--
the beautiful magical mountains
ice-capped like glitter
throwing all of itself at us, sending wisps of fairydust and secrets of the universe into the air
proclaiming "this is me!"
drink and feast and fill yourselves up
catch onto your audible awed inhales
feel everything in your body rise up and lean towards me
your arms stretch forward to grasp the banisters
tears that well outwards to reach the atmosphere
and finally threatened by gravity.
Just like that three seconds pass
and our hearts contract we heave quick breaths and the moment dissolves like cotton candy.
My eyes tear away from the scene
I turn to the old man sitting across me
and momentously we know that that was divinity we had witnessed
that we both had cried out and fell to our knees with the world looking over us.
No comments:
Post a Comment