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.


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