TURTLES
My guts feel like tumbleweeds. My lungs like dry leaves. I am nervous and I woke up this way, too. Dreams of whales and circuses made my mind feel like a wasps nest. I want to be true and I want to be free. And still I am tethered by my own fears. Half butterfly hearted // half spider web hearted. This weight to carry around, so heavy and unnecessary. And yet, here I am- carrying it. Choosing an orange at the market, my heart still thinks it needs to hold a vigil for every time it broke a little. When does it stop? When do you bury those blues? Have a funeral. Rest in peace. Every time I’ve thought it was done, there were a few last minnows rushing down the stream to bless and forgive. To crave something so deeply and yet protect ourselves from it. I want to be as sincere as the bible. I want to lay in a field and stretch my limbs and feel sun on my skin. I want to know what to say to you. But I am frozen in moments. Paralyzed by my kaleidoscope worries and loves and fears and wants wants wants.
Those baby turtles who run into the sea. Or are they running from it? Or those baby sloths so tiny and slow. All frantic and as susceptible as any other. We are animals. Foolish animals who concern ourselves with haircuts and ways to minimize debt.
Shit, I have no clue.
I just don’t want to poison anyone or anything.
