Incarnation

Saturn’s girl never touched the earth because it was too heavy and she’d loose her wings. 
Until one day she heard the crying and forgot nothing is what it seems.
Tears make streams that look like Angels’ wings when they reflect the clouds.
She only wandered towards the sound, to touch the sadness and make it better some how. 
And then she became what she sought to heal. 
She didn’t know the only way to do that was to feel the entire world in her skin and in her heart beating itself alive.

It took years for her to remember the rules: never get too close to fools lest you lose your light. 
But it was the only way to love. 
When the fighting stops perhaps they will see a little better, reach out a hand and pull her out of the dark.
And she will show them the arc she built while she waited to be found. 
And they will climb aboard, eager for another shore where wings are what they seem and streams are made of dreams and light, but not too bright.
Where night is never darker than the day, and every day is dawn or dusk.
They will make a home there and be at peace, forgetting all the density, making friends with sylphs in the breeze and twilight in their eyes.
Until one of them hears the cries again from another realm, and follows the sound. 
How a different song can pull you to the ground.

We are winged beings pretending to be made of Earth, learning what it means to bleed and to hurt and to open ever still.
Turns out fools were onto something when they found a place to feel and settled there.
For this is the secret life of despair, and loss, and grief:
our tears fall upon our cheeks and water the seeds underneath,
that we may notice soon the love blooming in our wounds.

Copyright © 2021, S. Naify

Art: “Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing” by William Blake

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