Big Bang

I am always crashing.

Violently, into everyone
around within arms reach.
If you blink, it’s possible you’ll miss it.
But I promise, you will feel the fiery
fall out eventually.

It’s rebirth.
It is soil.
The collision says,
face yourself.

I might scoop you up in the
palms of my hands.

It might feel gentle, subtle.

But somehow we know it is all
beautiful destruction.
A dissolving we all need.
The crashing is the letting go,
the stepping into the light.

The breaking of yellow taped
barricades you had placed around you,
but no longer need.

Ones I built and collapsed
with my own pounding
fists over and over.

Rubble.

But we all know,
the rebuilding is the best part.
Here, hand me your shattered pieces.
The ones that fell from my chest
when we collided
can bolster all of your broken.

All of mine.

If we shatter together,
we only reflect more moonlight.