halcyon horizon

I gaze over the river

from a century-old bridge,

gripping the rails

as the last light dims.


halcyon horizon

on the tip of my tongue,

it burns and it sizzles

with all that I was.


a luna moth trembles

at the edge of the rain,

drying her wings

to take flight again.


blisters and cracks

in the crease of my hands

from fear overcome,

from knowing i can.


cuts and bruises

from rocks far below,

imprinting their lessons

on knees and elbows.


they resemble the marks

from a different sense of dread,

one that still rattles

around in my head.


but its echo is fading,

the reverb stretched out.

replaced with a whisper

that dampens self-doubt.


a brown water snake

glides back and forth-

graceful in current,

fixated on the shore.


she's used to shedding layers-

stripping off old and worn,

seeing through new eyes,

finding a use for thorns.


gold now turns to lavender,

day blends into dusk.

the whisper reassures me,

let's peel back another husk.


nature poetry, self love, self doubt, fear, shedding layers, nature therapy, adventure
richmond, virginia, sunrise

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