image from stockcake.com
poem written for and submitted to "Sci-Fi Stir Fry #2 Anthology" contest, Mays Publishing 5/25/2026
poem submitted to "1476" poetry contest, Brian Strand, sponsor
At the hour before dawn, the sky loosened its seams and symbols drifted through, soft as ash, bright as prophecy. They fell onto rooftops, onto river stones, onto the quiet foreheads of those still dreaming~ each mark a memory the world had misplaced and was now trying to reclaim. The first symbol I touched burned cold, like moonlit iron. It unfurled into a vision of forests that once spoke in the grammar of wind, their branches spelling truths we forgot to read. Another symbol landed in the palm of a child~ a spiral of gold dust that dissolved into laughter older than her bones. Her shadow lengthened, briefly taking the shape of someone she had not yet become. Across the valley, the river mirrored the sky, its surface etched with drifting sigils~ unfinished sentences the Earth had begun long before humans learned to carve meaning into stone. People gathered on the banks, their faces lit by the slow-moving script. Some reached out, hoping to claim a symbol that felt like theirs. Others stepped back, afraid of what might awaken if they understood too much. One final glyph descended~ a shape like an open door drawn in trembling silver. It hovered before me, waiting. When I touched it, the world inhaled~ a long, deliberate breath, and the sky whispered through every leaf and riverbend: Remember what you were before forgetting became easier than becoming. And the symbols rose again, lifting into the brightening air, as if the Earth had finished writing its reminder and was ready to begin the next line
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