This poem is somewhat an ode to my tattoos, but I’ve gotten more tattoos since then. I hope you enjoy!
by Talia Franks
I am of the earth
and to the earth I will return
the ouroboros shifting on my skin
sings to the crow, croons to the fish
who swim in circles, the duality
of life and death inscribed.
We are not our metaphors.
I am not the tree in the garden.
But I feel her pain and her spirit,
I feel the weariness, the raw
agony of being torn apart,
a storm wrought by the swirling seas.
The inevitability of time, water and air,
wreaking havoc on their fellow element.
Fighting battles that
I am not the earth or the water.
I am not the air, nor even the fire,
the strike of lightning, igniting.
This feeling in my bones, the entity
I call my soul,
it sings to the elements
life breathes into life.
I cannot grasp the weight
of what has taken hold of me.
I could not hope to hold up
the aching world I find on my shoulders.
My weeping will not create a river.
I am not foolish enough
to think myself a god.
What spirits move within me
do so at mutual discretion.
But I think it unwise not to question
the motivations of all involved.