Two Dawns & Two Dusks
I resurrect myself every Saturday morning, as if I was a forgotten idol of an old religion or a ritual that the sun had wrung dry. I rise from the soil of the night like spring trapped in frozen gardens, and I am reborn, once more to face the fate of being mortal.
Two dawns and two dusks – a communion with capitalism, a bargain with a pantheon of gods who possess no magic. I shall give glory to my weathered bones and celebrate the white noise of my empty mind in the 48 hours bestowed upon me – as if it has ever been benevolent for the world to return my own time to me.
But afterwards, I must let my soul catch the sunlight again as I lay myself open as yet another immortal sacrifice, allowing the world to lay claim to my thoughts once more, holding me captive to a means of survival. We live in a world made of coloured papers with the faces of men who are supposed to mean something. We place our worth in the values inscribed on them, and in the number of zeros in bank accounts and in the autumns and winters of currencies and stocks and all the words of a language that ancient souls like ours don’t quite like to read.
Because we resurrect ourselves every Saturday morning, in the secrets that the clouds whisper to us and in the waves of golden oceans that crash and crest within our veins-
We resurrect ourselves like charlatans, we resurrect ourselves like shamans,
so that for two dusks and two dawns, we are allowed to taste the sky.
I’ve collected my endings like loose coins off the street, and arranged them delicately into a bouquet. Rooted to the soles of my feet, to the bases of all my dreams, flourishing in the vase of existence- in a capsule of time, swallowed like a memory wrapped in tinsel.
Fate is a florist, and I am but a single stem of an unclipped orchid swaying in the wind. I am diamond dust caught on the eyelashes of the ones I love, as I coax the night sky into giving me her secrets- the secrets of what our skeletons hold as we cling onto life like an anchor in rough water-
We are all vessels of stardust and sadness, consumed by love.
And I am just another girl with daisy petals between her teeth, stumbling through a field of tribulations,
With prayers in her palms that turn into poetry as she meditates on meteor showers.
I am just another unclipped orchid swaying in the wind, photosynthesizing on the proof that life can be beautiful, and there are moments bigger than the ones I fear, waiting just on the other side of a rainbow.
We are all buds of blessings, waiting to bloom.
Zahra is a 23 year old aspiring poet & writer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. Her passion for writing began in her teen years, inspired by her love for literature, lyricism and the drive to articulate the many emotions that she experienced the world through. For her, writing is honesty, writing is storytelling- she shares her innermost thoughts with the world through the deepest metaphors possible. Poetry and prose aside, she loves astrology, astronomy, Fall Out Boy, history, languages and anything cyberpunk! @moonstone.poetry on Instagram.