Landmark
I have always been a thread woven through
A quilt of darkness and isolation,
Holding myself together with bits of bone
And torn flesh and medicines.
I have always been a speck of dust floating
In the face of blinding light,
Past speakers with screaming music
Destroying them and destroying me.
I have spent a precious brief time
A blade of grass (never
A blade of steel)
In the grand scheme of this world
Which I have never fully trusted, but
Which I have tried to love nevertheless.
I have spent a precious brief time
A dandelion losing my mind with wishes,
Falling apart at the seams with only
Beautiful things.
These moments are ephemeral. When they vanish,
I am seldom certain that they ever happened.
A landmark event:
I decide to survive.
I decide to shed the shell of who I once was,
A snake in the midst of spring cleaning,
Leave it in the cemetery and become something
With soft skin and soft words
And soft thoughts.
It will not be perfect. It will, in fact,
Be a mess of torn quilts and too-loud noises
And things that are too dark and too bright
That don’t want to let me go.
Unlike the snake,
I will hurt when I shed my skin.
But still I will shed
And still I will survive.
A landmark event:
I decide to survive.