i dreamed of a thermos
the kind with steel walls
the kind you take on long trips
to keep something warm
and in it
i had placed a turtle
i don’t know when
i don’t know why
but i knew
that it had been there
for a long time
and i felt that quiet dread
that late recognition
“this needed air”
so i turned the lid slowly
as if i was afraid
that even the sound
would hurt it
and that soft hiss
came out
like pressure releasing
like grief
that had waited
too long
and then it slipped out
into clear water
not moving
shell damaged
and i watched
in this strange, lucid calm
as if i was being shown
something precise:
this is the part of you
that you had to hide
not to abandon it
but to survive
something too big
and i woke with a gentleness
that surprised me
not panic
not guilt
but the kind of softness
you bring
to a small animal
when you finally understand
that it did its best
to live
in the container
you gave it
and now
it is time
to learn
how to breathe.
© E n i s ∞ r
song: Fortress Around Your Heart – Sting
You have to peel dreams like an orange — layer by layer, until your hands are sticky with the truth.
