I've been dreaming about the sun
as far back as one and two.
I've been redecorating my resting place for twenty-one years.
But a grave is a grave is a grave is a grave
no matter the time it takes
to masquerade
my brave.
I've never been brave enough to face the light of day.
I've lived by reflected light.
It easy to stare at the moon by eyesight.
How do I stare at the sun with eyesight?
you came
to me past twilight and watched me redecorate.
I planted flowers in the grave.
but a grave is a grave is a grave is a grave
no matter how many flowers bloom at midnight.
(None of them did)
What then changed?
I took off the mask and let you open the door
and now
The light from the sky floods my grave with a force of a million volts.
I am reminded of the time
I thought I would never run through fields of ultraviolets.
Today I walk out of my grave.
To the day!
To what should I be afraid?
My fields are shot with blue violets.
The roots rip open grounds
as buds blossom with violence.
To what should I be afraid?
Today, because of you,
a grave is not a grave.
Today, because of you,
I wake up to the sun.
I'm staring at the sun without eyesight.
I love you
I feel the warmth of sunlight.
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 11:11 PM UTC
I've been dreaming about the sun
as far back as one and two.
I've been redecorating my resting place for twenty-one years.
But a grave is a grave is a grave is a grave
no matter the time it takes
to masquerade
my brave.
I've never been brave enough to face the light of day.
I've lived by reflected light.
It easy to stare at the moon by eyesight.
How do I stare at the sun with eyesight?
you came
to me past twilight and watched me redecorate.
I planted flowers in the grave.
but a grave is a grave is a grave is a grave
no matter how many flowers bloom at midnight.
(None of them did)
What then changed?
I took off the mask and let you open the door
and now
The light from the sky floods my grave with a force of a million volts.
I am reminded of the time
I thought I would never run through fields of ultraviolets.
Today I walk out of my grave.
To the day!
To what should I be afraid?
My fields are shot with blue violets.
The roots rip open grounds
as buds blossom with violence.
To what should I be afraid?
Today, because of you,
a grave is not a grave.
Today, because of you,
I wake up to the sun.
I'm staring at the sun without eyesight.
I love you
I feel the warmth of sunlight.
Request permission to use this poem