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.
