sea glass: life/ death/resurrection/

Norah Smith

i

submerge me in a sea of glass.

let me watch how the stained-glass tide

 shifts as the sun sinks below the horizon,

first orange, then pink,

then finally landing somewhere 

between purple wake and indigo sleep.

ii

sigh/sigh/sigh

it’s cold, 

but a comforting sort of cold,

like lying in a field of newly fallen snow 

as my arms and legs become covered in snowflakes 

and all i can focus on is my chest rising and falling against my jacket exo- 

   skeleton                

each breath a plume of steam dispersing into the starless night. 

iii

die / die / die

let me feel its embrace on every inch of my body,

let me watch how it ripples and reacts to my movements,

ever shifting; always knowing.

let me watch as it bubbles at my breath,

tickles my neck as it toys with my hair.

time keeps ticking,

the tide keeps taking,

and i,

hands shaking,

heart breaking,

mind flashing,

limbs thrashing, waves splashing,

mindclearingthoughfearingthatrearinglightnearing

will not

be taken from

anymore.

iv

fly  /  fly  /   fly 

when i break the surface,

my hair and eyelashes will be covered in little droplet shards 

that twinkle like wind chimes whenever i blink. 

i have not died,

nor have i been born again,

but my body is new,

still soft and weak;

and i will grow into it,

like i have time and time again.