unsurprising that we worshipped
the sun for millennia
us children of photosynthesis
we brittle and barren beings
yearning from bitter shadow
leaning in to light
our deepest natures reaching
towards its soothing touch upon our
desperate bodies
rich in warmth and hope
so relieved to be illuminated
for in such embrace we drink our life
for a moment in such sight
fully seen and fully bright
we are alive
how is anything of her ordinary?
nature is a humble brag:
her deep blue skies and silky clouds
that roam as vagabonds blown by their
sails across seas, deep green oceans
hiding monsters like secrets from me,
but i can see.
her swaying trees pushed around by the
breath of ghosts, limbs like arms held open
long for me, roots like legs run
deep below the surface through crystal
covered caverns, reaching molten amber
cores and diamond mines like
diamond eyes she tries to hide from me,
but i can see.
i’m a hopeless romantic, so maybe i find it
more beautiful than it should be considered,
but the ordinary you speak of is
extraordinary to me.
hot water pours down and my thoughts pour out.
i wonder what holding you feels like
what hidden rainbows i’ll find in your eyes
and if i’ll recognize them from my dreams.
i wonder what hearts your hands will hold
where you will go with your wandering feet
who you’ll be when i’m withered and old.
what will i name you?
it must be something good
something brave and strong and kind
all the things you’ll need to be in life if you are mine.
the water sears my skin like sere flesh within.
after this violent ripping in me finishes
after i can stand up straight
after there is no wet on my face
will i wonder more or will i finally know?
the water and my thoughts go ice cold.
i wonder when i’ll bleed and if we’ll meet
and how one line and two letters can
all at once soothe and hurt
and why my mother named me “earth”
and if anything good like you will ever grow
from me.
i remember
late night in ‘09
porch conversation and passion
of the christ
hard floor beside your bed
wide awake as you slept
other nights
owl city in your father’s jeep
chasing fireflies in the back seat
handholds like secret codes
we were just kids
trading clothes and
heavy words for the hell of it
but i remember
meaning it
Terrah Holly Writes 