Lotus

Lotus flowers bloom against my collarbones
Halfway to sunrise; they rest where
Bone meets skin
And petals get stuck in the sinew
Halfway to sunrise; the lotus flower stills,
Stutters. Halts

In dust and sand and a suddenly hollow spine,
The flowers which were intended to be so prosperous are suddenly stunted in growth,
Caught in an almost-bloom

Sunrise rests on the edge of the horizon, catching the trees with a powerful blaze which sparks them with flame.
Honey, we're nature's best arsonists.
As I nurture the flower buds that refuse to give in to growth, my hands – my heart – all this friction –

Gives in to fire, and ignition.

I pick through the charred stumps which used to be home to a glorious forest, thick with fern and moss and birdsong, of beautiful beginnings, and of peaceful endings.
I wonder where all my time has gone
And how my forest has burnt down
While others are beautifully prosperous
And light; and growing.

Lotus flowers are caught in a half-blood against my heart, you see, they can't grow past this heaviness. The longing of the lotus flower – forever clutched against my chest.