Reid@YWP

I lay them in a mandala, the shards of glass

I pull from my back, one by one.  I let them

scar over, and I surround the mandala

in peonies, because the pain was not for nothing

I hear you ... singing to the sky

I see you ... dancing through the lies

I feel you ... your touch ever so dear.

I know you ... you are my mother, and that is clear.

Every fall

the trees shake off summer

they stretch and yawn

let go of memories of green

sun

heat

children climbing

skinned knees and scabs forming

scars to show

how many trees were climbed

she was wildflowers and star-filled skies

she was screaming and laughing

she was loving so hard you can't think anymore

she was jumping off a cliff and the feel of water on your skin

she was your wildest dreams

With every arabesque,

my muscles cramp,

with every pique,

my toes crunch,

holding up every bone in my body

on a platform close to nothing.

We are on the brink of flying,

so 

so 

I read a book,

a book so good,

I wish I had never read it

so I could read it again.