Jessica Blake
I.
Shattered.
The cool touch of your skin
Encased in glass.
II.
A glancing blow.
Warm, wet, sticky.
Rainbows of blood
Down your face.
III.
Lonely,
Shriveled fetus.
I touch your face,
Thick with blood,
And call you home.
IV.
Morning dew.
Your body caked in soil.
You uncurl,
Reaching through the ground
To the sun.
V.
From the womb you are born.
My smiling face,
Mother's pride.
I hold you to my breast.
Gently,
Like feathers,
I throw you to the wind.
VI.
Misalignment.
Sharp angles
High speeds.
Feathers blowing fiercer in the storm.
VII.
Exhale.
Breathing relief,
As feathers place themselves on Earth.
VIII.
Solitude.
You find your path alone now.
No whisper of my guidance,
Biting my lip
I watch you fall.
IX.
Fallen.
Your hurt and crumpled body
Entombed so it can heal.
X.
Silence.
You entomb yourself.
Encased in glass,
You may never feel the sun.