Goodbye, Garden Fairies

In the hushed thrum of the dark’s cold stir,

I feel the pulse of everything.

Leaves tremble on the surface of water,

Cosmos weep in the vast expanse,

Pooling tender lilac and stormy grey.

I stitch my soles to the earth with red string.

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I cast a pebble into the inkwell lake

And cry silently to the moon.

She listens like a dear friend

Although she knows not of sin.

The world remains unperturbed,

In quiet lamentation, as I wane.

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In the stillness, I understand.

Though I feel all, I am but a husk.

A spectre in one’s laughter,

A monument of stone,

A fervorous ember starved for the light of nova.

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I catch with my hands a sigh in the air.

Where I seek communion, I am met with fuss.

Reticence hangs heavy where connection seams:

In the humidity of unspoken words and

The ache of every breeze that passes unheld.

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I scatter wildflower seeds in hopes they will find

A delicate embrace in the garden,

Growing not in frigidity but in fondness,

Petals unfurling under the light of shared space.

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I watch the trees arch, their branches heavy—

What fruit have I borne, what songs have I sung in vain,

While waiting for someone to nest in the thicket?

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Tonight, under a collapsing sky,

I will gather the fractured stars piled on the shoreline.

I will cradle the glass shards close to my chest,

And pour them gingerly upon the green altar.