Lucid

I see her body from afar
Facedown on a mountainside
Head pointing to the river below
She rises, stiff as a board, frozen
Or dead, who lifted her, unsaid
Outlined, illuminated in flame
Undead
Thawed
Where are we going and why do we have to go so far?

The look on your face first thing in the morning, my heart aches.
I made it through the night, another day ahead, wondering how much farther we have to go.
I smiled that morning, still in bed, the sound of birds talking to each other, more than you talk to me. The sun shone through the trees and the open door, warming my face in gold.
Groaning, you ask if I want to go somewhere but I’m not sure if you want me to say yes or no. If I say no, you can go as far as you want, in silence.

Wolves carry her body to the river’s edge
Gently tucking her
Into a cage of roots made from fallen trees and time
Protected
Motionless
Faces of wolves come and go above
Clouds morphing in whispered wind
Where are we going and why do we have to go so far?

You reach down and untangle me from the arms of the trees, propping my head up with a stick tucked snug under my chin.
It makes it look like I’m frowning.
In the morning, you don’t have to scowl when you see me because the stick gave in during the night and now I’m doubled over, head on my knees.
Maybe I needed to pray.
You didn’t need to stay.
Counting my scars, outnumbered by the rings on a dead tree, its bark falling off, revealing soft, wandering patterns. I consider where I should begin peeling my skin to mimic this masterpiece.

She compiled words of wolves
Sleeping on warm rocks
Lulled by running water
Dwarfed next to tree covered mountains
Sun shining on soft faces
Talking to herself to commit fine images
To memory
Lest they be lost
In the abyss
Built to be forgotten, passed over
Like the plain river rocks, used to cross
Unremarkable
Used
Footprints evaporate
Where are we going and why do we have to go so far?

 

(Image credit webstage.bg)