Simple
my language
has become simplistic
I can’t compare
these colors
to anything
other than what
they really are
perhaps I can address
things by their
true names now
maybe I can smell blood
& not faint, or hear a siren
& believe it is a call to
pray, & not a warning
to seek shelter
I believe
I’ve lost a few reasons
to have to hide
I think I can wear
this skin some days
& not be burned,
or sliced by glass shards,
or bolted by angry shocks
I swear I’m myself again
The clouds envelope me,
hold me up, shield me,
nourish me…
silver edges of light
stir hope within
rain invigorates me,
sunshine enlightens
but will still scar my arms
with its memory
I trace the blemished
constellations & I love them
I think I inhaled
an entire spectrum
& I don’t recognize myself
I move like wind
that only tells
a certain tree branch
all its secrets
I speak slightly above
a whisper so only
feathered ones
can hear me
yes, my language
has grown simpler
so I can explain
my dreams better
I’m fine now
just to be awake
Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash
Good one Jennifer! I particularly liked the stanza, ‘I move like wind/that only tells/a certain tree branch/all its secrets’.
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Thank you, Dominic
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My pleasure Jennifer!
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I love how this starts off deceiving the reader into thinking simplicity means not having much to say. โI think I inhaled / an entire spectrum / & I don’t recognize myselfโ is glorious.
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Thank you ๐ฉต๐
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