the speck

One day she’ll just get it.

She will get up and grab it

as if it hadn’t always been hanging thousands of feet above her.

She’ll get that the distance between her and what she wanted was

a mirror image;

and the speck in the reflection above,

made up of millions of forgotten pulsing particles,

must act.

She must act

She must act

She must act.

For every piece of her hums,

restlessly pulling her upward

to meet a surface where

she is realized.