BardBliss: Burnt

From our city arboretum, LEAF.

Listening to: She looks so young here...and where are the feathers?

Today's Bliss Formula: A slow day amongst old trees in a place where cars cannot even be heard. Off the beaten path, truly.

Burnt

The fire of the sun
greeted me daily, burned
me from the moment of my
birth, left its mark upon
my flesh.

And for many days, I stared
at, picked at, pointed out
my scars to others. With pride,
I bore my burned flesh
in public like prized jewels.

For many hot afternoons, I
became my scars. In the mirror,
there was no me, only them.
I admired their pink ridged softness
and gave each a name.

Until a violet-orange sunset
came with a soft rain and after --
a gentle breeze and after --
the glow of the full moon
and her luminescent halo

poured over my burnt flesh.

And with the kiss of night
I danced naked under the dark
blanket of stars and the ridges
disappeared one by one
until there was just me.

--christine c. reed