Poem by Nia Mucher

Words Like a Charm Spotlight

It is on days like this
With my waterfall eyes and avalanche heart
That I sprawl myself out on the floor
And imagine that I am the root of everything
That has ever gone wrong
I am the table you jam your hip into at least once a week
I am the cold coffe and meeting missed because I
Am what keeps you up at night
When you toss and turn it is one of my twigs stirring up your soul
Do not forget that the tree you are sleeping in
Is an extension of my arm
I am the gun
But not the bullet
Nor the hand that pulls the trigger
I am not the heart pierced
Or soul lost
I am stolen last breaths, and a feeling
So sharp it can fit in your back pocket
I am neither light nor dark but the separation between them
I am empty, a false hope
Not a wish or a lie
I am not a clear sky
Or the clouds that will fill it
I am soft lines
Tracing the edge
Of every grave in the cemetary