remembering your wings
my fairy wings grew in between my shoulder blades
sprouting from skin like a tulip
pushing itself up from its bulb into the fresh air of the spinning world.
nail clippers and scissors are not strong enough to trim wings
never enough to make you forget
that your
petals
and hands
and feet
can fly.
it’s good to cry
salty and open
please cry because you finally can.
you’re safe to become a fountain
spilling over and out of a hard tile cage
you’re safe to be a sticky soft cloud
raining and rebuilding.
you’re safe enough to hold yourself up to your own constellation.
sometimes you have to get your cheeks wet
because you know they’ll eventually dry
it’s okay to open when you need to cry.
living and dying as one
i am not afraid to die.
when one tree’s branches
are depleted by human greed
they cry sappy tears
and then they keep going.
they keep trying to be green again
their trunks never stop smelling like vanilla
and their mushroom friends do not eat them alive.
in the forest
as in the world
we must help each other grow.
and when one of us has passed
through our starry skies
they meet another one
and their energy never dies.
garden yourself
let yourself feel clean and colorful.
let warm shower rain wash away the salt dried on your cheeks.
draw swirls of rose and sage and daffodil on your strong branch arms.
let yourself know that you are beautiful and decorated
let yourself know you are as fresh as a lily pond
still
beaming
rippling
my moon and sun are sore
there’s a space in my chest the size and weight of the hard, grey full moon.
i know pulling the tides is important
and without change we’ll both drown.
i keep thinking we are sitting on two separate shores
but really we are still swimming together.
our fingers still brush as we pull ourselves through the current
we are swimming a different stroke now
but i still feel your sun somehow.
