My beloved cries out— I bring cool cloths, rub her back, I pray and wait, and split in two— As one watches over, the other packs her bags and drifts into the night
First the forest and the fog— I am blind with darkness and use my hands to feel my way through the unaccounted for, the unrecognizable, flashes of memory dismissed Tangled branches whip, roots rise up tiny monsters nip, but I don’t run And always the presence— thick film and sticky, bearing down too heavy to be comfort, and cold
There is more air here but I see what’s next and drop to all fours Now I am on the rocky ocean’s edge at low tide Here the wind rises and I know it can spirit me away while parts of my little body are cut away and discarded it can spin me into ether Here it feels free, but not really, false promise— I will have to return some time, to face my broken heart
I’ve been here many times and have what I need: layers, rain gear soft soled shoes (we’re on slippery ground here, pay attention) a locket, some string and one match The match is my beacon, string keeps me grounded I know this road, and will find my way home