The answer

My heart is hungry
for what I didn’t know before
the light. The air.
The tree branches sway to
ghosts on the wind.
The grass, a graveyard of regret.
I walk away, knowing what comes after
can only be better.
Next time, I’ll find the one
who’s been looking for me.
The one who’s eyes search
the sky.
I won’t settle for less
than what I hope for.
I’ve shed claws and sprouted
wings.  The moon nods its
approval. The crickets sing
a song of respect.
If you are not looking for me,
I don’t want to be found.
I’d rather stay in my shell
until my own resolve cracks
it open.
Free. I’ll listen to the spirits
of Dante and Beatrice,
and await the smoke signal
of someone who could matter.
Whether it’s the earth or me
who answers,  depends on
the flame and the charred
particles of the dust of my heart.

-Tosha Michelle


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