tongues
There are days where I know the Universe is telling me something.
Telling me to stay or go- to act or to be patient,
I can’t tell.
But She speaks in a language that I recognize.
One where everything is set to a higher vibration,
each breath
too loud.
When She opens her mouth,
the floor is somehow lopsided,
so I trip over every step.
The snowflakes fall in chaos,
the kettle screams before the water boils,
my house plants are a vibrant type of green that
doesn’t resemble any field I’ve seen.
Her words,
Her breath,
Is more than I can comprehend.
But it pulls me in a way that reminds me of being
underwater for too long and my lungs are burning.
I think it is my mother tongue.