I am so glad to be here. I am weeping. Tears jewel my hair. I know that I am beautiful. I know that I am.
I am draped in midnight blue. The drape of it flows off behind me, infinitely. That river of blue.
The bear and I go walking. Not with any goal or purpose, but to move through the trees and light. To take the air.
Someone steps out from the edge of the trees across the way. She is ragged, shy and naked. She has been unhomed too long, with no one to receive her. Her cropped hair stands ruffled and contrary off the top of her head.
I dress her in jeans, a man’s shirt, loose and untucked, half-buttoned over an undershirt, and the sleeves rolled up. But no shoes. She refuses shoes. Her feet need the feel of the ground. I understand this.
She digs in her pocket for something. The stub of a pencil. She scribes words on the skin of her hand, in the dirt, under rocks. Words spill out of her like ninja stars, small spiky things. She is exhausted by the unending, unchanneled flow of them.
I take her up, wrap her in my blue, and she falls asleep, the words spilling out with her uncalculated breath, staining the blue, cutting fissures in the fabric, making starlight of me.