Do you see where my fire went
caught cascading down to the ocean floor
where tiny lights lay flickering along cool waves.
A note breezes suredly past my open ears
to receive the answer to my question.
Pause now, take still.
“The gloomy sink that drains my discarded hair.
My skin laying limp under a growling owl made of many colors
rubs my sore shoulders that no longer share
the burdens of all that has past.”