incandescent

There is not enough of me to be [[enough]] My fleeting frame holds me down, or is it up? I search the field. Vast, covered in emptiness. God, make me a flower So I can be beautiful. Please, Lord, make me a flower even if it’s only for a moment. Care for me before I am blown away.

I want to be [[wished]] upon.

Wistful glares entrap my soul. Wind whispers through the hollow field It does not call my name It only [[moves]] past me, indifferent, I am not worth its breath.

My hands encased in earth, roots dare to take hold, but the soil won’t allow it. I long to be enraptured by the warmth, by the cold, by the roots and the soil. To be held and tended to, even if just for a [[season.]]

Seasons change though. They always do. Am I winter? Brittle and bare? Have I grown? If I am a flower, what kind will I be? A rose, a thorn, a temptress. A fleeting dandelion, [[scattered]] before I knew I was whole? I wish to be soft, to sway. I wish to be strong enough to stay.

Sky cradles dusk, evening unfurling Night does not ask to be held like I But it is. Wrapped in its own certainty and undisputed in its place. I wish to be certain. Why must I ask permission to bloom? Is it better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission? I want to exist unapologetically. But the field is endless And I am [[small.]]

Still, I whisper Make me a flower, make me a flower So, I may know beauty Before I am carried away. Carried away by a breath By the wind that never bothered to learn my name. Make me something work remembering Even in flight, in passing Let me be felt, my absence a gleaming [[ache]] in their soul Let me linger Between hushed lips.

And if nothing else, let me be a wish. A dandelion undone.