how I grow

on my best days I am the tip of a bright orange sunrise

exploding up from behind the frosty white mountaintops 

i am awake, early 

unafraid. 

i walk streets with ears filled of soft lyrics and melodies of tranquility

there is a fast pace to my step 

i smile at everyone 

grazing mitten-covered hands and cotton clothes 

it is cold but the sun is strong 

giving birth to freckles on my pale skin

the frizzy hair that falls behind me is in the form of two braids

and they sing a song on my back as I stride 

away from the shade and into the sun 

i don't wish to be anyone but myself

i don't wish to have any other mind but mine 

on my worst days i am inactive 

yet exhausted

i am the flowers left on the terrace overnight after a sleet storm 

faded pigment and bent stems 

i am the weeping sky with a 15 day forecast of clouds 

lost hope. 

regret so strong it feels like i could pick it out of my hair 

scratch it off my arm 

bleed it into a river 

I wish I was anyone else

I wish i had any other mind but mine 

revival happens at some point each day 

between contentment and need, 

wet tears and white teeth 

shining through sun or barely seen through clouds 

a newborn freckle on a weathered petal 

i am both at the same time 

and i am proud to say: 

this is how I move 

this is how i grow