The Belly

Never had I ever imagined a summer to be quite like that.

The feeling of love and loss and freedom all tangled up in one.

We were isolated in a place that was never isolated.

The night I first peered up at constellations with clarity.

We watched each other in complete and utter awe.

They looked down on me as if I were a small child in the belly of something large and powerful.

In whispering voices like tongues,

they spoke words that felt like breezes and smelled like salt and cloves.

huringa pūngao

Illness was right underneath our noses the entire time;

she played her dirty trick but did not stop our dance.

Bare feet, charcoal faces, burnt skin,

were no match for the fickle beast.

She only fed us what we had hungered for the whole summer.

Then I heard it once again, the voice, it spoke,

huringa pūngao

but this time they were screaming, banging cymbals, chimes, and blowing trumpets.

That’s when a strong hand reached into my chest and twisted the sinews of my heart

Twisted until they were rotting and almost black.

huringa pūngao huringa pūngao

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741