the nature of (my) desire
wintertime. everything sleeps (i certainly do) and if you are not paying close enough attention, you may mistake it for dead.
it is in the slowness that one regains its roots.
oh, to be lonely. frozen. paused.
it aches because it lives.
and then something...
what is the breeze that awakens the bud?
no, that's not the right question. the scent.
i sense it with my core.
the birds carry a different flutter underneath their frosty wings.
and i unfold. slowly. dropping into myself more of me.
my petal arms dancing outwardly, you would think it a valse but no, reggaeton.
i move and i swirl as if for the first time, again, which makes me self conscious and i laugh.
awakening to the music, i feel clumsy and purposeful.
look at me
look at me
no end to this calling
did you know i was longing for you, oh Sun?
no, i hide too well, my well is non-verbal and only accidentally falling through will do.
i live in the shadow too.
it makes no sense and that is the spring. reckless. burning.
i am parched on fire too.
more life, more dance, me, you.
one question awakened a forest;
would you water me
if you could see?