for Divine
The void in my stomach, in my heart, has edges that glow where flames once were.
It existed before you and will live long after, but this moment has your name.
14 days since you came around, two weeks, one then the next.
The first where you planted, grew, and laid claim.
The first where you shot into my view,
Lit up the sky in a blazing burst
And demanded all of me.
The first where you told me about you, and in doing so told me about myself.
I stood in the clearing and watched the sight of you.
I thought about the Gods
And prayed.
I lit myself on fire, lovingly.
I singed my skin, one fingertip at a time.
I inhaled heat and exhaled smoke
and your breath
from your mouth
and your guts
In effigy.
I gasped for oxygen, but there was only you.
I twisted and writhed
until I was choking on you.
I was pressed up against the dirt, out of air,
Praying for faith,
Asking for religion,
Begging for you to be my God.
I worshipped you.
On the sacred day of Sunday, the world rested
And we were holy.
I put my tongue out to receive you
And inhaled hot air.
You seeded and flourished in the field,
And I burned the land.
I felt you.
My eyes glowed.
The week ended.
You were axed down by the root,
And I cried for all those who would never know the shade you provided.
I cried for the cold I felt.
My eyes went dark.
The week after the first billowed with smoke.
You were quiet.
I struggled & was still.
I was still.
I still struggle.
I sat next to the hole where your roots were
And started to sing.
A peaceful smile on my face,
A faith I knew once but since forgot.
The grass was bright with flames.
The heat creeped into my organs,
And I thought of religion and of you.
I remembered fire and wood.
I thought of your hand, and your heart.
The push and the pull.
The lit branches and the sky full of fire.
The land and the Gods.
The earth, your roots.
I burned and became dirt.
The skies opened up and drenched the land, wet the fire.
I thought of the time I was scared and you told me to, “Let go.”
Let me go.