of a kind

The wounded and the grappling ones
Meet upon fields of scar tissue
Weary & recognizable
Our fractures form equations of perfection
Balanced in Aquarian algorithms
With holes burned in the fabric of our masks . . .
We twitch with a sensitivity to
the sun and the salt
Awareness numbed into compliance & assumption
Collective memories collide & are quieted by
the touch of a hand,
The twinkled depth of eyes sure & fired by
blood & snow
As one, we catch the beat of a thousand spring wings
Turning our truth up to the
blueness and the feathered gray
We catch the scent of earth & passion . . .and
Step closer to the knowing