POETRY ON MEDIUM

The Cycle

A Poem about Life Reborn

Golden brown the hair on my body as silky as my skin flickers in the blooming wind day and night until at last the heat grows tiresome my eyes a speckled drearier a great wave of change washes over enraptured by instinct my body as mangled-looking and gross to some but fascinating to others grows morphs develops inside a shelter airtight I do not breathe the life I am to be given until I finally deserve where I escape the confines nature bestowed as a caring mother as a mentor who wished me beauty freedom to roam the very lands I looked upon as a young naïve beast — though beast is a harsh term — with body transformed inspiring truth and delight encouraging hope I am the manifest of lives lost of those beyond breath who rest solemnly in what ground I shall one day feed as the short life I lead ends faster than it began.

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