Do my steps weigh down

This island, and flood my home

In waves of guilt?

 

These frayed gaps tell me so.  

Prayers force their way out of these pages

To land in ashes beneath my feet.  

 

The air is dark,

Always has been.

Do my thoughts contaminate

This world like they say?

 

My mind reels,

Then stops.

A void of static.  

Eyes close

Like palms meeting in the breeze.

I ask Mama if there really are trees like in the stories.

 

There’s nothing to see

But dry age and grey desire

Outside this window.

 

Mama won’t let me open it.

 

It shines again.

That yellow haze in the air

He calls the sun.

 

A ball of fire in the sky?

It must have fallen already,

Why else would the dirt burn my toes?

 

Mama says I can’t go outside.

 

I jump out of the window...

And I haven’t stopped falling since.