Some days a girl just needs to know that no matter what has changed, there is still some consistency somewhere in her universe.
She needs to know there's Daylight. Listen up.
She needs to know
She can lay away in tall grass alone in empty spaces
and come up alone and unharmed
That her breath can be pulled up from her lungs
to its rest for the time it takes
the leaves to come from green to gone
That her soul limbos in the inbetween
hanging on the memories of green and ultraviolet summers
in grass and water and smoke and deep breathing
She needs to know the soft place cradles what she hides
And she knows because
her body she beats on city streets
where the inorganic becomes the only and
natural a term she can no longer identify--
all caked in smoggy morning-after haze
And she knows
That when that scarred spirit returns to her broken body
while the tangerine light paints morning--
warms the shut-blind slumber of all the lonely people--
there creeps a feigned moment of Spring in the daylight
Enough and time
She reminds herself of the things she knows:
It is not the love of a man that makes a woman.
It is the hell she goes through for understanding of the love of God--
The love she saves only for herself that makes her
So body captures soul on the December set
and she tells that sun to stay longer stay lighter stay light
She knows
And she knows she cannot make that sun stand still
But she will make him run
in the daylight
