Our mentalities are separate,

cautious.

We are of simple minds,

of hardened hearts,

not yet ready to believe in each other—

in ourselves.

And above, a black midnight

Reflected brilliantly upon the water;

a pool of ink.

The stars, dusted across the darkness.



We lunge, we dive, into

blackened pools of adrenaline and

nighttime.

The transformation hits us

like a wrecking ball;

like a wrecking ball,

numbness flows into us,

creeps unto us

as we stand, together,

the ink falling

from our shoulders

and skins;

from our judgments.

Our reflections are changed,

perhaps irrevocably.



And then the heat;

the heat.

A warm caress on our quivering skin,

a welcome silence to our chattering mouths,

now hushed, tired.

The taste of iodine, of laughter,

coats our dry, sticky lips as we

mute.

Our senses, now acute.



The sizzle and snap of

hot steam, cold breaths.

We taste, smell and now—

feel the sage, warming us.

And suddenly, out of the darkness,

I can imagine.

As if in a sunlit afternoon,

hot and humid.

Birds wings flash above brightly;

they flutter lightly, carefully extended,

beneath a robin’s-egg blue.



In the dark without a moon,

as our impurities and vanity

melt and collect at our dirt-covered fingertips,

we all extend our wings.

We all extend our wings and fly.

Trust the air. Feel the sky.

We are connected,

as if on a single wind.

Infinitely strong, yet perhaps

unseen.

Our skins are softened as we leave,

the breath of a story

still on our ears.

We breathe deeply a perfume-less air.

We flash our wings, now extended fully

without reserve

For all to see.