Uncle.

Calling out into the sky. I cry uncle for the birds to hear. Please carry it will you? To the wind. Please send my cries up to the clouds. Fill them with my pleas. Filter it into the rain. Rain down on me, sweet peace. 

Please swift river, please carry me away. At least for a bit.  Let my worries flow downstream. Let them swirl from me. For they are too heavy and I can no longer float.

I'll whisper my cries for protection, down into the grass. So it grows into the roots. Filtered by the soil. Surround my heart, dear universe, with protection from this. Protection from those things I have left myself open to.

Clean the wound, dear worms of the dark. Clean the decay of death from me. Stitch me up with blades of grass. Call it good. Call me healed. For I need to believe in something.

And I'd like to believe in healing. 

Katelyn