• Allison

Grow Young

Grow young again.

Like a plant turn seedling receding into soft, wet ground,

such that you were entirely of earth once more.

Feel all life’s answers,

alive in its beginnings,

leach into you.


Fear,

no longer abstract,

but the dark space beneath your bed.

Or that intentional hum of the witching hour

as the house settled for night.


Limit,

not a feature of the curated mind,

but the busy street you must not cross alone,

or the quiet woods behind the mall

into which you must not venture.


Ambition,

characterised not by credentials,

but fingers drumming against a miniature blackboard,

reciting a lesson plan only you can see,

answering questions only you can hear.


Attraction,

gauged not by swiping right,

but crowded around the daredevil

in the school computer lab,

who spoke of Love Calculator and alternate+tab.


Demise,

no great perhaps,

but predicted to the minute with Death Clock,

ghost stories in the voice of your best friend

ringing in your ear through the second extension.


Grow young again.

Like a butterfly turn chrysalis dissolving into itself,

such that you were entirely of earth once more.

Feel all life’s answers,

alive in its potential,

leach into you.


 

Singapore

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