your wayward child

dear time,

when this reaches you, i will have all been washed away. eroded as all things will be. there will be no body for nature to reclaim or energy to replenish. there will be no soul to be reborn and no ‘hello’ to be said again. when this reaches you, i hope you will have forgotten me as you have many times before. that i am no memory and no existence. that i may hide in this corner of creation and be left there for peace.

you sent roaring waters around my ankles, sent creatures to dig into my bones, and people to bore their way into my body. i’ve stood here, watching you begin and end again with a repetition so brutal it made me kind. i’ve watched the tides crash upon the shore and wished for them to take me with them. "wayward,” you whispered to me. a corporal form plunging in and out of my flesh. “wayward,” you whispered, as you dug into my skin and thrummed out of veins. “wayward,” you chanted, as my body had been shred apart by the people you called sons. “wayward,” you screamed as they took each part of my flesh and dined on me as sustenance. “wayward,” you cried as i scathed my knees and begged for my mother to take me back into her womb and undo the sin that had been done. “wayward,” you seethed as you took hold of me once more and thrust me towards the world that did not me.

when you’ve read this letter, i wish to be out of reach from your gasps and cruel currents. i wish to be free from the fear of pain you have etched into my body and bones, and when that proved futile, you transcribed into my existence. to follow me in every life. no more lessons, no more teachings. when you’ve read this, i will be free.

sincerely,

your wayward child