like the creases in the pages
of your favorite novel,
and the folds at the joints
and eyelids of a newborn child,
and the cracks in the bark
of your favorite tree,
and the wrinkled bedsheets
of a good nightʼs sleep,
like the highlighted route
on your road map,
and the arrows on the clock
that point to the time you have left,
trace them and be.
you are not merely
a human with a history,
you are still present,
your time is not up.
you hold the invincibility
and beauty of a willow tree.
and you are not all the same,
so celebrate them, do not hide them in shame.
like streaks of sunshine
and the ripples in the sea,
trace the lines of your face,
for they are not a condemnation,
but a confirmation (unfurled)
that skin like pruned fingertips
has soaked in the weight of the world.
not only do they know who you have been,
but they also know who you are right now.
so trace them and be.
-rawley e.c.
