Show me the beauty still left in these pieces, show me the proof that I have a purpose here. Hold the sky a little longer, while I stand under it, searching for my name that I swore was written there once. I can’t find it now. Perhaps the last storm that blew through grabbed my name, took it into the night, tried to pocket my thunder, used my light to show the stars how to shine. Or maybe it’s all in my mind and my name was never there anyway. I try to piece together the skyline, take note of how the sun burns so gracefully and it’s really brave the way she’s at peace with being unseen and I afraid handing the whole sky over to the moon. I’ve always been close with the night. I’ve been having conversations with the moon since I started talking and one thing I know for sure is our secrets are safe up there. I can’t speak for the stars though, I threw so many wishes to them, they never made their way back to me, but still they twinkle and shine, hold pieces of wishes and time. So be it. The night doesn’t hold the answers anymore, no proof or message to show me the way. But sometimes I chase the light the fireflies carry, the flames go out before I can see where they hide, I stay with the dark, listen for clues, and the trees say nothing at night. The forest has flowers. I go there sometimes and pick them for myself. I want to hold the blooms while I’m alive, not be covered with them after I die.
I never did let my roots stay anywhere long enough to call it home, but sometimes I borrow the light from the wings of those fireflies, make believe they’re candles, sit with the trees and say it’s my birthday. The cake is always good here, the stars look on, maybe this is the year they shed light like proof, when I close my eyes, make a wish, and blow out these candles. Hold the sky a little longer. I can almost see my name again.