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Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.

Stephanie Briar

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Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time

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In the absence of you I look to the moon and pray that the stars light my way, too.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
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As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.
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To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.
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Emotion = Energy in motion.
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I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.
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We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
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Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time
Some days, my mind will still be in prison, but I will live in spite of it. I unlearn how to swim; I trade my gills for lungs and wings.
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The day I made peace with my pain was the day I was born again.
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Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.
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Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
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Last night, I sent you home with a kiss and a promise. I hope you still believe in roses.
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The stars are where we came from. They orchestrated our return to the place we can always come home: our ancient, timeless love.
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How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?
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I fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.
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