Head South from Peregrine by M. Hazeltine

All these months I've missed catching up with me
in ugly noises, through broken bodies.
Sitting alone on a sinking ship,
10,000 children, we are trying to stay dry so hard
that we've forgotten who we are.

I am ready to just open up my heart again,
be something warm amongst stone faces and frozen fingertips.
And I must escape this place,
leave the green and dripping wilderness behind
for something dry, sharp and reflective.
I'll head south.

And the sounds they've made are trapped echoing,
a piece of what was feeling in this place, inside of me.
And I'll carry this away, whatever it is that it was which i learned;
what I'll have, that i didn't,
where I'll be, where I wasn't.
Like the mist in Manzanita, on the shoreline of Nehalem Bay.

• Devotional
• emo
• guitar
• voicebox
• Tucson