it’s like unzipping a familiar, yet broken zipper

then separating the strands

creating as much distance between them as possible

fighting against the magnetic compulsion to bring the familiar back together

and finding the strength to let one

fall to the ground

so what to do with the one still in your hand?

maybe you cobblestone it

filling the gaps with the chalk dust outline of hopscotch blocks

flooding empty space with the sounds of ice cream trucks, little girl giggles and the soles of tiny shoes touching pavement

maybe you reach back into yourself, on the infinitesimal scale

and grab the double-helix of resilience

perseverance, beauty, ingenuity

adaptation, creativity and raw strength that science calls

deoxyribonucleic acid

and unwinding it to take the broken zipper’s place

maybe its taking an oak tree

and stripping back the layers of bark

xylem and phloem

interwoven lattices of carbon and chlorophyll

until you get to the center ring

to the acorn at its core

plucking it out

and placing it in the richest, darkest, wormiest, old growth primordial soil you can find

whispering, while you nurture it,

“don’t be an oak tree

be food

be shelter and shade

be our lungs and filter

be cardstock

be two-by-fours, firewood, and sawdust

be tables, chairs, bed frames and baskets

be sap, be wind chimes, be life

be inspiration to future generations

be vast and innumerable in measure

be one

but do not be an oak tree”

whisper and wait, to see if it grows into an oak anyway

or becomes something altogether different

it’s building a sandcastle

flawed and cracked, but beautiful

with slightly crumbling battlements, ramparts, a seashell drawbridge

a kingdom created from fine grain and gravel

and watching a wave crash over it in graceful devastation

then staring, as the tide recedes

at the lumpy, wet mess sitting where structure once stood

and shaping what’s left into something else, something magnificent still

like a whale or a rocket ship or a tea kettle

because that’s what the new thing wants to be

it’s looking at the world for what it is

staring at it for so long, your vision blurs

turning to watercolors.

and then committing that watercolor to canvas

before handing your masterpiece over to a toddler

giving them crayons

and asking them to outline all the animals and numbers

shapes and objects

and all the things they see in your tableau.

and calling that what it is then

a world reimagined isn’t fantasy

it’s dreamweaving

zipping a piece of the ethereal, the mystic and mystery

the cosmic clouds you land on when shooting for the stars

to the world that’s still caught in our hands

it’s repurposing the oak table to become a wardrobe, a door into another world of lions and witches and turkish delight

it’s turning your hair the color of sapphires

it’s grabbing a handful of wet sand

and blowing it into glass.

a world reimagined is right here

waiting for us to discover it’s infinite potentials

the first step is simple

unzip

October 2020