Tell me I am real, place your lens there.
Ensure I am rooted as safely as a gardenia,
in the aftermath of our intentions. My footprint
steps on the neck of these tides, my grip
shivers against the camera, a shutter moves
with a candid eye and captures me so vividly.
The light never held me willingly,
a participant, a gasp. When you find me,
make sure to tell me I’m the subject.
Simple sounds ring and record. Tell me
who took a pen to detail the secrets of the past.
I am the one riding through the machine, all
the subtle parts that murmured appear now
full of fury. I am destined for the earth,
a ball of fire, dropping like coal into the sea,
all the parts of me once hidden, now diamond
precious, a light to be caught. Little spark,
little spark, call me by my name.