Lightning never strikes the same place twice,
but the phantom pain remains as the Earth
grows into new skin, again and again.
As I attempt to accept this heart & soul
on my own, willow wisp wishes to keep me
company. My clothes cling to my limbs, I am
soaked to the bone in my own ocean.
Barely grown oak trees caress my aching
body, to bring me back home. The scent
of petrichor floods my senses, and I know.
I am clean again.