Dipped in the ink
of dreams half-forgotten,
Scribbled across a midnight sky
Angels dancing on the backs of dragons
as pitch black rain fills my eyes...
Giant swaths of my skin are ripped from my bones
as if removing the outer layer
will enable access to the understanding of my soul.
The cries of the smallest creatures,
the hairstreak butterfly
the rusty patched bumble bee
the eight-spot butterfly
the Kona giant looper moth
and countless others,
fill my ears with the crescendo of their silence.
Dark clouds--
not the life-bringing, heavy with rain, dark clouds--
but the ones that
vomit
into the sky,
cloyingly grasping
for every breath of fresh air.
The silence grows as the domino effect,
heralded by the silencing of the pollinators,
begins to cascade,
quicker,
and quicker,
and quicker still.
I buck my earthen hips
straining to break free
belching forth fiery rivers of lava
raining lightning from the core of my being
weeping
as the slide to complete annihilation
continues
its
extinctual
path.
Self-preservation is paramount.
I fold in on myself,
preserving the essence of my core,
and begin to release the pieces that no longer serve me.
Sloughing off the detritus
Exfoliating the dead cells.
I will survive.
I will let go of what continually destroys me.
I shed what I don’t need,
don’t want,
refuse to carry forward.
I continue my circling journey to hibernating self-preservation
letting centrifugal motion carry away the excess.
I hold what is essential to me
knowing that I can return
when death has removed the blemishes.
I will stretch into the new beginning,
allowing my being to expand, once again,
through dream-remembered skies.
