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Writer's pictureMolly Green

Selenite


Artwork by Michelle Dong, staff artist

I am the deep breath,

traveling from your left palm,

threading through your throat and third eye.

I feel the impediments,

the smothered spaces within,

and awaken the spirits they need.

I would rather let other

precious gems sit pretty

than let negativity eclipse their light.

I get along well with

your Higher Self, a human of herself

extending, pouring her words in your cup.

I dream in color

to countervail the lackluster

mask of skin I wear.

I worry for the insecurity

that manifests so warmly

in your sweaty hands.

I would like to flow,

like water, to flood the wilting

corners of your world with candor.

When the moon is tired,

I steal her name,

so Selene’s smile

(so soft, so silver)

keeps me awake at night.

Leaving the gypsum caves,

to be sculpted, to be smoothed,

to sense more of the universe,

was the best thing I’ve ever done.

Leaving the gypsum caves,

to be separate, to be stripped

of the home the universe is jealous of,

was the worst thing I’ve ever done.

It makes me feel guilty that

I may surge such intensity,

that my energy may push

a queen beyond her kingdom.

My favorite time of day is

morning when your mind is muddled

so when I place the crown

on your head, your purpose

becomes transparent.

The point of my life

is to unravel earthly advice

so you may reach beyond

your forehead, your palms,

your scalp, your realm.

I’d like to be remembered as

the stone you set down

yet still feel, sparking

at your fingertips, slowly

entwining our souls.

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