they crawled in
and wrote stories on your walls
flicking by firelight
etching deep grooves
so they’d be told over and over again

there’s the warrior in this one
your epic journey along this sharp plane here
that point there
where the chalk broke and you tripped
forever broken with it

or the lover over here
where you folded into that once wet moss
thinking you’d be healed
’til it withered and dried
and you became its brown dust
forever floating

you listened to these tales
as they told them, echoed them
in your wide chambers
let them bounce all around you
become you

but my darling, don’t you see?
you’ve always been
more than these stories
of battle wounds and wanderings

look again –

your walls are still here
behind those words
smooth and strong, damp
with your own nectar

you’ve got a taste of your own
a temperature, a smell

the old dust settled, the fires burned down
into your pillowy floor
that now cradles this bear and precious cub
who already knows what you’re still learning,
remembering:

your warmth, your safety
your sweet, steady breath
your heartbeat
have been glowing and dancing
all along.

so write your own stories now
you vast, abundant heart
let your whispers become songs
carried by the bees in your delicious flower crown
come spring

I can’t wait to hear them.