i can’t remember the first time i heard myself think.
it must have been in the spring, when the days were humid and warm. hanging from a branch, the embrace of my momma’s leaves were comforting. like the halcyon embrace of a songbird.
time climbed by like the ants scaling my momma’s leathery bark. butterflies came by to visit me, beetles and bees too. i didn’t have a voice to greet them with, but somehow i think they knew i was happy to see them all the same.
before i knew it, i began to dip down. momma didn’t have a voice either, so she couldn’t tell me my change was growth. i wasn’t sure whether to be afraid or not — at least in this development i wasn’t alone. like ornaments of red and gold, my siblings began to droop close to the earth as if to give the grass a kiss. being further away from momma was new and frightening, although the newfound independence was exhilarating in its own way too, i supposed.
birds began to nip at my skin. i wasn’t much a fan of that. i wanted to curl right back up in momma’s embrace, in the jasper green leaves that used to hug me and hide me. what i didn’t realize was that the birds and their shining beaks were the least of my problems.
it was the man, calloused hands and straw hat. i saw my sisters and brothers plucked away first, falling into a basket like soldiers into a grave. i was confused, afraid, and i yearned to shout. and yet, with no voice, i cannot scream. and with no way to protest my fate, i was helpless in the face of it.
nestled in woven fibers, me and my siblings clamored together, silent in our united terror. what would come next? i had always thought the spring would last forever, that things wouldn’t change. was that foolish and naive of me? it certainly felt so now.
laying in a porcelain bowl, i am the last one bathing in the sunlight. teeth crunching like bones in a broken ribcage, i watched the man take my family one by one. out the window i can see momma — she is still standing strong, happy, healthy. does she even notice im gone? will she notice when i am dead like the rest of her children?
i cant remember the last time i heard myself think. it ended just as suddenly as it all began. but this time there were no loving presences, no bugs to watch go by, no sunshine to enjoy. just a hot, dark morgue and the sound of a jaw clicking. just like that, it was over.
