Masquerading as rocks

Masquerading as rocks

When all the world became still

like a dog sick with mange

scratching a zillion fleas

Houdini-trained and unreachable

your teeth chattered in the sun.

When nothing could warm you up

your hopes became crocodiles

that clamped the flesh of your dreams in their jaws

until they tumbled from pylons

to plunge into the river

and you, being way beyond shock

were the only one who could see them.

Their eyes and ears faced the sky

to mirror your own inertia

masquerading as rocks

while I was on the hill planting seeds

sunflowers among buttercups.

You thought that nobody saw you

and no-one even cared

but then at sunset the thrush sang and something in you

stirred after aeons of being locked in.

The heat spread through your body like delicate climbing tendrils

and when the fire sun melted at the liquid edge of night

the crocs opened their mouths,

your dreams became fireflies,

and you knew peace.

So keep inhaling the future

and know that the flying sparks

won’t always perform acrobatics;

we’re fading, just like stars

swaying in the breeze, like flowers.

You fell down

You’re alive

I see you.

Kathryn Mary Crowley