Oxygenated [Part 2]

Let me sink into still water, at last,

moisture as the ocean’s fury pooling

below my heart and around my feet.

I found an oiled pelt four miles back. It was

scuffed with betrayal and worn from hurt.

In a mile's time, I hope to discover healing

(liquid message in a bottle)

for the welts beneath my dying skin.

Tell me it isn’t too late to adorn myself.

Let me roll off my own shoulders, like rain,

settle into my palm a butterfly

resting its wings. I will see my reflection

in the runoff, in the stillness after flight.

I want to pry open my ribcage,

release an ancient sigh, see froths

of venom evanescing (a wave's white water).

I have reached for acceptance

in the cold of December,

limbs numb from snow,

and grasped for the hand of deliverance

in the clear skies of June. Every time

I run my fingertips over reminiscence,

I fold up a barely quenched rage, tucking it behind

(inside) my lungs and try to breathe around it.

Tell me it isn’t too late

for the kiss of life.

In the burning end of autumn’s dance,

my oiled pelt will renew my scars.

And as I catch fast water (pools

beneath my feet) it will still,

as I have stilled,

and I will cup my hands to the Earth

finally able to hold absolution.

***

A/N

This was the first poem Poppy and I wrote together. (My first collaboration!) Poppy is truly wonderful, and I'm so honored that she considers me a friend, as I consider her one too.

We wrote two poems in the end, each one about forgiveness, though from different angles. I highly recommend you go check out her profile for some more of her masterpieces.

Click here for Part 1:

As always, thank you for reading!