we all know who really does the lurking
This is how you rebuild yourself from hollowness:
Begin to notice. Begin to notice the sighs of the wind
as it passes through the willow tree frozen and silent,
begin to pluck the stars from the gutter, the fruit
from your lips, the crumpled leaf from the tallest branch
in order to find solace in how small you can be.
Begin to rummage around the blurred lines
of memory to uncover, like an archaeologist,
the gold that used to shimmer when you weren’t
so empty, so bare. Begin to reinvent courage
so spiky it could tear apart any flicker of fear.
Trick yourself into lethal love, into adoring
your own mouth, your perfect ankle, the way your
words leave trails like miniature natural disasters.
Be the dainty feather that twirls down from above,
be the wings that the bird has so much faith in,
be the quietness of the sleeping lake it flies over,
be flight itself, be as still as the silence after the silence.
contramonte, “Be” (via contramonte)