[title subtitle=”LINES and IMAGES: Jennifer Burchett”][/title]
In my hibernation I have awakened.
Through pressure, and restriction,
I have re-routed back to the flow.
I have caught the light upon the path,
in my sails, and as one.
I have breathed again,
felt my shield,
and sensed the Universe that lives in my chest.
Through restriction I shed the skin,
shards of an overgrown blight,
in light peaks to blossom.
I have made my way home.
It was only while awake
that I slept.
Wings clipped,
depleted,
only to not be nourished.
Balance tipped to weigh on my heart,
not pressure but slashed,
my breath an ode to death.
To roam the land of manic sleepwalkers,
air wreaks afoul.
Awakening now an order,
to which I must submit.
A season has now set.
Fresh air flows in my veins,
billowing a life from slumber.
There is only so long one can ignore;
to hold their ear to the static void.
But in wakeful life
there are songs
of iridescent rhythm,
to which our natural state sways,
or against which we crumble.
Just as light only exists in darkness,
so does nature exist in you.
