Dandelion Breaths

Teacup stars pour light from glitter spoons into my eyes searching inky night for answered prayers.   I straddle the edge between sapphire and sunrise with outstretched arms, hands begging for a god to lift me out of the curse of questions.   Tethered to the constraints of why I pace a thistle field of “what ifs” chanting I’m sorry as if shadows could bring absolution.   Searching is mortality’s friend and foe. If there is light in a distant tomorrow, I must trust and not chase it with a match.   ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Grief doesn't have to make sense. I feel fine one moment and the next I'm begging the door to open to see Dawn walk through it.