Through seaweed brushing ankles,
condensation kissing hair,
and bulbs pushing out of dark dirt
to greet the sky.
Through the boiling heat cooking skin brown,
tears dripping through every pore,
and warmth sitting heavy on a heaving chest.
Through changing colors sweeping across sky,
deaths graceful mark a foreshadowing,
and a single chromatic word.
Through icy tendrils dripping on my head,
coldness dancing through the air,
and the sharp sense of frigidness.
Seasons of mother nature
whisper in my ear the secrets.
Touch upon my heart and begin it,
the stitching and sewing,
till I’m whole again.