I want to find
my way back
to the girl
whose lust for life
made her splash
in rain puddles
whose love
made her free
as all the birds
she watched
flying south.
Lately,
I’ve been dancing
in my kitchen.
And I say
it makes me feel sexy,
but what I really mean is
that it makes me feel alive.
Have I
been gone
so long?
A dead heart
in a chest still breathing?
forgetting
how to laugh—
forgetting
what it means
to exist where both
joy and sorrow do?
I knew that girl once:
the puddle dancer
always laughed
at lightning.
& I loved her—
for all her joy
full innocence.
Then I was made to watch
as the rain
drowned her out.
All at once it became deep
too deep
to splash in.
For one
terrible
moment
she went under.
But now,
through clumsy steps
on my kitchen floor
I find I’m teaching her
to live again.
Now I find,
I’m teaching her
to dance
upon the waves.
(Image c/o Dyana Wing So on Unsplash)
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