Always when I think
of what could have been
if I had only behaved,
I follow the stream
to the blackest sea,
toxic to the touch.
I got some on my skin once,
and it found my heart
and made a hole to fill.
Only darkness can live there
for a spell, and it seems
to burrow into a cavernous well.
Breathing hurts
when a part of your heart
is brine or frozen in time.
And I can’t seem to smile
for long anymore.
Teeth coated in night
that spreads to my eyes.
But soon the Moon
returns with her young, the stars,
to remind me of light.
Some stars want to live in my eyes,
and they root in the deep void
growing in the space
my heart once adorned.
The thing about stars
is they don’t like to be alone
so they multiply 'til a place
feels like home.
The thing about Night
is she seems to draw the light
whether stars or moons
or the morning after grief.
The strangest peace
can find you in the deep.
I should have known
my obsidian heart
would eventually burst
into dawn,
because nothing is ever
gone forever.
And Yin is married to Yang,
pleasure to pain, heat to rain.
This is the clever truth
about polarity:
Truth is married to Mystery.
And even if I got
all the rules wrong
again and again,
I keep finding
new ways to stand.
It’s good because
when I forgot who I was
I couldn't find the ground.
And the Moon,
she prefers to be drawn down
into a gown of gentle light,
kind to the eyes of dark sprites
and shadows at home
in Night's cloak.
And Day needs to break
all the traps we lay
for ourselves while he is asleep.
Copyright © 2021, S. Naify
I’m a soul in transit, documenting the inner and outer terrain, often through poetry and prose, sometimes through songs, and occasionally through photos, essays, confessionals, and other mediums. This is how I breathe.
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