October Sun

Are we speaking in tongues?
Two can play that game,
My friend.

Transitions always
Leave me shaken
And shaking,
But I remember
The mission.

Seven bluebirds
Wait for me
And you know,
I’ve found my pace

The sun through the wind
Is a caress grown
More subtle,
And his clock might
Not save daylight —
But he never
Goes for good.

He’s got me
All worked up —
Codes and messages
And a similar mythology
That makes it
Hard to hide,
Even among falling leaves.

And I keep falling,

Indirect —
Look straight in his eyes,
And it burns your retinas,
Crackling petroglyphs
You can’t shake.

And it’s a light
That renders
Every color true.
Just like the not-so-
We adopt a darkness,
The better to absorb
This warmth.

And you might as well
Leave your mask
And concealing words
At his door —
A sacrificial exchange.
He has the healing touch
And won’t let you avoid
Confronting the broken.

Remember —
We worship the flaw.

And you can close your eyes.
And you can close the door.
But his hand is there,
On your hair,
On your cheek,
On your neck.

He is ready
To pull you —
Kicking and screaming
If that’s how it’s gotta be —
Back into the light.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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