When the Earth breaks
I become the animal
teeth, stomach, claws.
It is the old way, stamped on to bone like a fingerprint.
Or maybe a brand.
I wear it away
Let the wind and the water do their work
Let the sand grind against the ridges
So I can find something softer
Light, feathers, air
And then when the Earth splits open
I can hover in the stillness above
Original prompt and writing series can be found here.