I want to rip a hole through my physical body,
and through it reach the life of bodies past.
I want to feel the solar fire burn, instructive.
If Icarus flew too close to the sun
why are his scars not on my body?
Into the bottomless sky my wings of pride take flight
unconscious to the heat of flame.
I want my body to be trampled in an open field
by the hooves of a hundred horses,
ten thousand military men,
one solemn voice ringing in my ear.
the song of victory;
the song of defeat.
Why are the deep prints of man not treaded on my soul?
Why is my singular soul so sure of its own blank nature,
a stranger to the print of the past.
Is that why I speed headstrong into the future,
each life erupting as if no life has lived before;
yet maybe there is something in my dream
rearing its eye like yellow dandelions in the first green of spring.
One morning, I’ll wake to a field of yellow.
Long ago I made stateless crowns
by weaving gold stems into my hair.
And yet I’m here.
Am I not here to know myself?
To experience the flow of all through me
to experience a kind of world which knows not,
yet is inexplicably beautiful
a kind of beauty that remains forever secret
to the hard stone of my form
that in time erodes
from the force of a selfmade waterfall.
I’m Nikole and I am an English teacher. I live in the lovely city of Edmonton. I enjoy writing and reading and have recently seriously delved into the world of poetry in an attempt to try my hand at it. Being in nature and solitude inspire me to write.
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