Sought for in the dark
It is the feather reflecting light
From a pale moonrise
Giant and pregnant with glow
With a sprinkle of salt
And the sea on our tongues

It is the feeling of weightlessness
And the caress of gravity
Balancing our bodies in harmony
Our faces held aloft in delight
Like the sunflowers
Raised on stalks of power, peaceful

It is consent
And the ability to concede
The ability to move like
The deer or the falcon
And conceive wolf litters
That speak indigenous

It is a world where the only pressure
Is the atmosphere
The only binds are
the only anxiety is
whether you made the right decision

I have heard of her
And felt her brush against my face
If only I could grab her hand
And give her to those
Forcibly confined to false cocoons
Designed by malicious eyes
To produce red rayon en masse

But I cannot find her fingers
Nor does she linger for long
She is a heatwave;
An illusion, felt—
Perhaps my only choice is
To describe her, fight for her
And burn those malicious eyes with
My own aura
So that Freedom may float through
a new entrance




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