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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