Birds with sore throats are screeching warnings.
You are burning.
We are burning.
They smell the smoke, they know the danger.
Nooses have cracked their homes in half.
They've seen their children dive to the ground and shatter.
The birds are screaming,
But windows are closing and curtains are drawing,
And you are patting me down while I assess your wounds,
And I try to use my tears to drown out the fire,
But all it does is fuel.
You are not going to die,
But I can see that is not what you're worried about.
So we tell each other stories
Of the lake, the rain, the wind.
You smile because you love these things
And I smile because I love your smile,
And before we know it, our laughter brings thunder,
And the hiss of flames fighting their death,
And I'm still smiling.
I'm still smiling.
I'm still smiling.
Life is drinking in our rain and growing arms and shoulders.
It is carrying us away from the ashes of our skin and bones.
When it puts us back on the ground,
You can stand, but my knees bend
And bring me to the ground in prayer,
In a plea for mercy,
For peace of mind.
Don't help me up, I won't work.
Just keep telling me stories until I can convince myself to function.
Show me that the sun is rising, and that it's beautiful.
Ask me if I remember the time.
Tell me that my burns look like leaves,
and that you can see the sky through them.
We are weaving strings of nonsensical theories
That no physicist could decode,
But we are each other's Rosetta stone.
We are discovering each other,
And, before I know it, I will be crawling
Uphill on elbows.
My scars will be interesting instead of ugly.
I will learn to say thank you,
And to love myself as much as your smile.
We'll leave the bloodstained poetry in the grass,
All of the "I don't know if I can do this anymore".
We'll leave it there.
We'll climb back onto life's shoulders,
And we'll be okay.
I will be okay.