The day the fireflies danced us to the edge

By Nwodo Divine

The rasp of a moth wing, caught between windowpane
and the moon’s hard gaze.
A silent question mark
fluttering against the future,
the shadow stretched before our eyes,
but kept moving towards the bloom,
petals heavy with the scent
of honeyed bees.

Stars were bright pinpricks
against the velvet dark,
the storm a hum on the horizon.
And though it thundered,
It didn’t matter because of how still the air became
before the first crack. We kept
pressing through the reeds,
ignoring the rustling whispers
of unseen creatures.

Light can bend, fracture,
depending on the prism held.
In a spiderweb’s embrace,
a fly’s iridescence warps,
beauty turning predator.
This beauty, a constant tug,
yanked us closer to the edge,
just to reveal the dizzying view.
We nodded, again and again, to the hypnotic dance
of fireflies across the marsh.
Who can hear a plea
through the static of desire?
Naive to believe the web
was just silken embrace,
not a prison spun with patience.

But now, our hands shake like leaves
Caught in a sudden squall. Tangled and cold,
reaching for a form with wings lighter than dawn.
Hands that mistook the mirage for an oasis.
And on this cracked earth, we cry for that creature with wings,
which was always meant to fly.

BIO:

Nwodo Divine is a writer, researcher, and teacher. He posts on Twitter @chukwudivine_ and Instagram @nwododivine_