I am not a rusting bolted latch.
I am not a hidden path.
Or hidden treasure.
I am not a half sunken ship.
I am not a puzzle piece long lost.
I am not a dark cave.
I am not a fearful rabid beast.
I am not tea in the saucer.
I am finger tips.
And salt. And the crease of my neck and the warmth of my belly and the arch of my foot. I am riddles and constellations. I am the roll of a road and the horizon unseen. Open hallways and calm pools. A secret and a labyrinth. I am thunder and the heart pounding wait for lightening. I am phenomenal woman. And feral. I need no leash. My stride is sparks from bare heels that light the world in fireworks. I am both the dust and dirt in the cracks in your skin and the light of sunrise that warms the frost from the leaves and starts the day. I am a start. And I am a finish. And that is worst and the best of me.
So don't think that my drumming needs your hand to stay it. And stop your robbery. It's useless. Unclench your fist around the fear of light escaping your possession. I scare the hell out of you. That is the worst of me. So come here and take off your fear. I'll help you undress. You have possibly never seen a creature like me so I will speak softly. Put down your trembling and let me slip you gently into me. Come. Quiet now. Let me show you that some wildfire is not meant to be contained. This fire is mine. And it will burn the edges of the universe. And your whole world. And you will think that is the best of me.
Post a Comment