June

— Aiyana Masla

It is because
            of the tangle
of white wild flowers
            in the bright field
untidy, reckless, deviant
            in their courage & in their beauty,
their happiness a holiness,
            visceral & redemptive,
their perfume intoxicating
            heavy rain

it is because
            of them
that you learn
            to be all of you
without hesitation
            before you will be nothing
& everything
            at some unknown instant of release.

It is this tiny infinite constellation
            slippery with dew & levitation,
of renewed soil & new light,
            mystery, radiance that pours through
from somewhere you have no words for
            because you have no right to explain,

that teaches you to open
            even while you know
& to remember, at times with sharp anxiety,
            that you will disperse.
You will close as night will come,
            as is the way of things.


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