scared to tell the truth
because that makes my problems real.
it means admitting i’m not perfect,
admitting i don’t have it all under control.
want to whisper into the ear
of a sympathetic field of wildflowers.
wide expanse of space and breeze
blowing my words and worries away.
write it down on parchment
and sail it away in a bottle at sea.
dreaming in another language, climate, culture…
but will it really make things better?
carry these quirks and crucifixes in my atoms,
only alchemy can transform my weary bones.
raw heat and serenity
will accept me as the eye of the storm.