The Firework
She is the perfect package now, according to them, even though it hurts her. All the parts of her life were rearranged by someone else. Everything was put in certain order according to another’s blueprint. The pieces of her that didn’t fit the stranger’s design were shoved down to the bottom, where they wouldn’t get in the way. It’s all tucked into the cylinder of her life, just like it’s supposed to be… right?
Why does it hurt? she wonders. Why do I have to live in the cylinder this way?
She forgets what some pieces of her felt like, the ones that were stuffed to the bottom of her cylinder.
She keeps existing, on display for the people to see how well she is put together. Keeping the parts of her package intact takes all of her energy.
She feels their eyes. Hands reach for her. Panic. She can’t control the things closing in on her. They shift her from her place of existence. She lets herself be carried away by the new forces.
She convinces herself she is okay, as long as she keeps the parts of her cylinder just right, shoved in, packed together… sealed.
The new forces put her in a box. Now she feels stuck. Here she suffocates. There are other packed cylinders like her in this box. They don’t seem that happy either.
It gets dark.
The forces come back. She feels their eyes. Hands reach for her. Panic. She can’t control the things closing in on her. They shift her from her place of existence. She can’t fight being carried away by the new forces.
It’s darker this time. She’s alone. She doesn’t care about the package she’s in anymore. She finds herself wanting to vanish into the darkness.
What’s the point of being stuck in this cylinder? It hurts too much.
She gives up.
In the same moment, a flame catches the first piece of her that falls out.
It rouses her from the fantasy of death.
It burns as it sends fire to the pieces of her that were shoved to the bottom. Those pieces need the flame the most.
Make those pieces move. Make those pieces boil.
The boiling loosens up the cylinder. The constriction dissolves, and the other parts, once arranged, fall apart. Everything is free falling within her. It won’t stay contained.
She doesn’t fight the new forces. They are forces of herself.
It is herself, and she is on fire.
The free fall within becomes the launch site.
Every single thread of the cylinder of her life separates and releases her into flight.
She feels the eyes again. What must they think as my life explodes?
The thought falls away as the open air embraces her.
The moment she discovers she belongs here is the moment the eyes finally get to see what was inside of her all along.
Flowering petals of light pour out from her center in waves. The waves change colors as she allows her center to bloom further.
No more pieces. No more parts. No more package.
She thanked it all for bringing her to the explosion.
She thanked the explosion for bringing her home.
Within her is the same, vast constellation that surrounds her in the sky.
She will be a star among stars.
But first, her undoing.
The flowering fire of her release carries the continuous flame into witnessing eyes.
The eyes fall in love with the light.
She slips into the stars, into her belonging.
It is the place where her light never goes out.
Home is where she is now.
For my sister, Julie.
Wow.
"Within her is the same, vast constellation that surrounds her in the sky.
She will be a star among stars.
But first, her undoing."
Mmmm 🩵