Break me out of the stone
that has calcified around my chest,
help me see the mythology of
my life, lift me up from the
perch I’ve glued my feet to
where they’re sturdy
where they’re stuck—
Teach me the language of the skies
the language of being
that liquid breath I feel—
so close to speaking—
when the darkening clouds
in the dome above me
conspire to dance.
The words form on my lips sometimes
when I stare at the veins in my hand
a whole system of living
I barely have to feed.
The words form on my lips sometimes
when the autumn leaves
stand crystal clear against a blue frame,
perfect, there.
I reject language and its lies,
human creation warped into twisted shapes.
No, this is what I know.
I should sit naked in a rippling stream
my skin pressed against a bed
of smooth stones.
I should lay my shoulders down
into that clarity
and let it wash through me
with my eyes closed and let the
water and sensations on my skin
and steadiness of my breath
and downy hair tickling my face,
I should let it all sing me into being.
Moriah Brown
Moriah Brown is a poet, novelist, and full-time student at Syracuse University working towards a degree in creative writing. Her poetry has been published in Creation Magazine, The Woolf, and The Passionfruit Review, among others, and has also been featured in Alchemy and Miracles Anthology and Bimbo Feminist Anthology. She is from Fort Worth, Texas, and loves writing, birds, and her cat Nala.Â