You made it

Pale hands reach up into the cosmos, a fingertip brushing against the front of a star before it blinks out of the night sky. Your fingers pry at the enveloping darkness, pulling it apart in the same manner which you dug as a child, trying to create a hole large enough to sleep in. Back then, where you slept was always cold. Now, you rip the darkness apart like clumps of grass, sticky warmth beneath your fingernails as light eclipses all else. Everything rains down on you; the loneliness, the disappointment, the fear. It rains and rains and pours, yet it slides off you like water. The darkness falls away and you are left with this brightness, this aching love in your chest that makes your heart want to burst with emotions you can’t describe.

The glistening makes you golden, your fingernails diamonds and your eyes sapphires and your hair strings of pearls, a weightlessness you haven’t felt since you were a child. Everything in this world is as it should be, as it always has been, the fog peeled away and the picture saturated.

There are black spots that speckle the light like stars, freckles of imperfection that make beauty even sweeter. You know your origins, you know the depths of the earth that were once your womb, the holes you dug till your fingers bled and your eyes could spill tears no more. You made it.

You made it.