Unmade
Don’t mind me, I’m just crying into my hands
salty tears stinging the cuts
from trying to hold on
too tight.
It’s time to loosen that grip,
don’t I know.
But I’ve lost control.
The pain has become thunderheads
billowing all the way up
to the mesosphere
of my heart.
Somewhere they don’t belong,
don’t they know.
It’s where things become dust.
Their white bodies are lined with
threads of gold from the
glowing sun, and from
my ache.
And look, here come the meteors!
Ready to burn holes in the
luminous body of their
gauzy wings.
Does this always happen when pain
takes you places you shouldn’t go?
Here comes the hole punch.
I am damaged, pummeled, wrecked
by their beauty, by their
danger.
Don’t be sad for me.
The way they unmake me,
the way they break me,
makes me new
again.
I’m no longer an earthen vessel,
I’ve been released
with the clouds
of my heart.
