Where I stand I feel mighty, like the warrior of woodpeckers, the communicator of common fulfilment. I am a cell, coasting playfully inside violet veins. Our great mother teaches us well, her lungs spread to frame the sunlight from my eyes.
Where I stand, there is no place I cannot be. Joy, strapped upon the wings of migrating birds, gliding so closely to my understandings. I am all that I see and all that I see is all I hope to know one day.
Where I stand I see unity drawn in messy portraits. Collections on mass create landscapes I’ve come to call home. Who I wonder shall inherit these?
That house upon the hill, do you see it? Look further afield, in the distance. Behind the rattling windows and red bricks live little witches who watch over the trees and paint faces on the moon. Owls live in the wall and I hear them call forward the sunset.
Do you hear them too?
Where I stand I raise my chin towards the sun, my vision is guided by angel trails decorating the turquoise blanket above me. They are careful, like moths, to not get caught within the flames of hazel sight. I blink, once, twice, thrice. Such action is my hope to catch a shadow but they are too quick, too rapid for human consumption.
Where I stand I listen, hearing playground chatter behind my stare. Boisterous fists play notes I remember. Yet I am still, travelling without trampling the grass and beheading snowdrops I fail to see beneath my thoughts.
Only God hears me now.
Only God hears the poetry I read silently from post-it notes stuck on my bedroom wall. Where did she go, that girl ironing raw and honest words? Words written by busy fingers scrambling to decipher unknown certainties. Words I have come to live by and this I regret, like the slurring of existence during alcohol stained nights.
Where I stand, in that tiny second I see the enormity of effect. In that second a whole life is resurrected to only be forgotten as I’m distracted. The present moment beckons and I salute.
The bark of a dog calls me to walk on.
And now I am gone someplace new.