I Am Tiresias

 I am Tiresias.
Ever-changing constellation of stirring selves,
positioned in part on sand and sea,
while parts of me rest on the beach
with a differing degree of permanency.

I am Tiresias.
Ever approaching their magnum opus,
or at the least growing situated in a working thesis.
With cut phrases and sentences stretching across the sky,
I’m restringing stars as guiding lights
to soften the black crash of night.

The tides have turned.
The sands have shifted.
Time’s slow elegant brushstrokes
transform into panicked spurts of energy.
The game remains the same and is ever afoot.
Hapless Taurus with a splinter in his eye,
charged far off course,
blinded by shards of prophecy,
praying this odyssey home won’t grow worse.

It’s in community, unity,
taking opportunity,
to lift each other up by what we see.
Taking wisdom’s cartography
and planting seeds inside of me, inside of you.
When all the loss stacks up
and leaves you bereft of breath,
silence pressing inward,
collapse follows into thought—
the mind a field of dreams in ruin,
last light shone a while ago.

Scream till your voice goes raw.
Let silence fracture under your howl,
for even ruin must make way for bloom.
Slam your fists into the earth
until they’re bruised and broken.
For after all this death dissolves,
this same field will be teeming with life again.

Bring your body into ecstatic motion.
Dance until the marrow remembers joy,
until grief’s weight cracks
and light spills through.
Because it hurts to stand still,
stir joy in your bones,
move in erratic commotion.
For tomorrow will be here
without the gifts that once held you afloat.

I am Tiresias in transition.
Dimming eyes on a day wrought with decay.
I swing and shout, I breathe and dance about
to keep the bout with silence at bay.
Where once was a long miserable silence,
with words heavy and full of fire turned inward,
is a discourse of sweet purple petals
poised to pierce this god-awful soil.
Ready to write a better story
than tuck into slumber in this bitter end.

Do these things while you can
to prove you still exist.
Do these things while you can
to bring light back to your field.

I am Tiresias eclipsed by crisis’ frenetic fervor.
Hanging the stars, dancing through time—
the stars collapse into silence,
and grief folds me into his arms,
tender but unchosen,
the ghost lover’s embrace cold,
a hollow grave.

From this sullen spell I will rise,
carrying petals in my mouth
to pierce the soil,
sowing bloom from ruin.



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