I molt in my sadness.
Shedding my sugar-coat, casting off the sweet dew from my brows
discarding the curves of my smiles
and the openness of my palms.
From what was relinquished an inner peace will be quenched.
An eye re-opened by forsaking a teardrop,
an ear quitting a familiar voice
again attuned to the sound of longing,
The sight of going, shut,
and the vision of returning unwrapped
from the seal of the heart
and its time-trapping design.
Far resigns and becomes farther
Near leaves and becomes nearer
Close becomes both distal and proximal.
Closer is a sweeter day,
to molt is to find its promises.
I will miss and be missed. But it too shall pass again and again until the earth spins so much and becomes one color, neither red nor green. Just one. And newer it will be. And I will smile, but differently in another way.
Shedding my sugar-coat, casting off the sweet dew from my brows
discarding the curves of my smiles
and the openness of my palms.
From what was relinquished an inner peace will be quenched.
An eye re-opened by forsaking a teardrop,
an ear quitting a familiar voice
again attuned to the sound of longing,
The sight of going, shut,
and the vision of returning unwrapped
from the seal of the heart
and its time-trapping design.
Far resigns and becomes farther
Near leaves and becomes nearer
Close becomes both distal and proximal.
Closer is a sweeter day,
to molt is to find its promises.
I will miss and be missed. But it too shall pass again and again until the earth spins so much and becomes one color, neither red nor green. Just one. And newer it will be. And I will smile, but differently in another way.
zina irwin
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