Raw

What is it to be broken down, again?
Navigating with a Soul exposed
Uncorrupted, free of sin

It is the vague familiarity of having read this story from beginning to end, but losing the plot just as it twists

I am the story. I am here.    
Standing in a field, with arms outstretched, I allow myself to be hugged by the encroaching, humid air

In the instant before my skin can bead with sweat, a breeze reaches out and runs its cool, spindly fingers through my hair

Unflinching, the breeze fills my nostrils and promptly steals a few of my breaths    
Soil erupts from beneath my toes as I steady myself with each step

The ground below opens in welcoming  
A womb not for bringing life, but for its gentle undoing

Here, I will lay, previously unearthed   
Those that knew me, and what I could be, are to remain still within me, terrestrially preserved

At precious rest, like fallen honey bees lost to a bittersweet death    
Here, I will maintain until awakened
Reborn, refreshed