Fate and Loving What I Do

By Sara Aranda
Excerpts (edited) from a post originally published on Sara’s older blog: heysarawrr.blogspot.com


I chase life
like the breath of air
after a cloud of smoke.
I run away to the mountains
to let the pine needles dress
my insecure body,
a lioness more at home
in the dirt.
I climb rock faces
let my hands bleed
and skin themselves free
from city drudge –
an invisible mist that slowly
dissolves the brain.

I hold love by the hand
and kiss his lips,
feel the sun wrap its arms;
feel fingers of my hair
dress my shoulders –
wiry and non-mechanical things,
feelers, rather, for the green rain
and soft Earth, dead soil
and ash-turned-stone
granite cliffs.

I am just a girl in everyone’s eyes.
But the Universe
knows a thing or two
about death.
The life in her body
runs toxic all the time,
chaos in the cosmos –
bright and black voids
where she may even still
be bleeding.
I look up to her,
youthful lady of the sky.
I imagine she’ll eventually yearn
to simply lay down,
where, despite her body
burning and eating itself,
she still dreams of long life and wrinkles
for her star-dwelling eyes.
Will she die when I do?
I will do nothing else
but run to somewhere,
to the mountains,
where the Milky Way glows whiter
than the moon,
where fate is nothing
but a question
and the wind is just another reason
for happy, gilded trees.


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