‘Eine Dämmerung Umwelt’
Tammie Birdwell moved to New York a decade ago after a divorce with $250 to her name. She has since learned she is autistic, but she has also learned she can take amazing photos. Sadly, she was tested when she became disabled and unable to walk, but again, she pushed through. She renamed her company Forward Motion Media to help other disabled people see that it is possible to push through that feeling of existential dread and find happiness again. If she can help just one person find their joy again, she will see it as a job well done.
Eine Dämmerung Umwelt
From her eyes, the world awakens.
Twisting day into night.
Creeping.
Crawling.
The earth covers her bio luminescent skin.
Perfuming the skeleton from within.
A cerulean tint over the dawning night.
Through the garden of rebirth.
Cast below a crescent moon.
A wild jasmine does intricately bloom.
A seed that holds the secrets of our everlasting doom.
From the ancient dirt she rises.
Inhaling the ambrosia of the ink black sky.
Spirals are painted upon her wandering eyes.
Leave a coin before the soul crosses the river.
From here to eternity, the shadows shall continue to whisper.
This is the call of her burgeoning hope.
Echoing beyond a pale autumn grave.
From here the leaves begin to chatter.
Leaving a stain upon the crushing waves.
Eine Dämmerung Umwelt. 2
She is more than her dark matter.
Releasing years of pent up rage.
Blooming into a crepuscular world.
She is untethered from a swallowing divinity.
Illuminated.
Her roses begin to vine.
Leaving a rotting shell of all her past humilities.
January cold kiss.
October crimson swoon.
Tea with the willowing spirits.
Sugar upon a silver spoon.
Old pages to write her rippling memories upon.
Melted ink, the decades now seem unknown.
The smell of atmosphere in her hair.
The taste of sea salt galloping through a blur of a reoccurring nightmare.
How she has made it through the sands of her illusions.
Unscathed by the guillotine of despair.
Three times she has knocked on the oak wood of morrow.
Three times she has fallen beneath the cracks of sorrow.
Rising from the ashes.
She is a sparrow upon an eggshell spring morning.
Reaching toward a soft pink sky.
Eine Dämmerung Umwelt. 3
This is her souls eternal yearning.
Within the confines of her secret garden.
She is the mother of the soil that nourishes.
From the silence there grows a pulsating womb.
Giving birth to her planetary loom.
Within the fabric of the spinning yarn, gold indigo stars are aligned.
The three fates, now twisting the destined folds of time.
From the mundane, to the inherently divine.
She is cast into the depths of the fire.
Winding her way towards the light.
She is the ravens call of the sublime.
Reborn.
Her very own bejeweled turquoise world.
Untouched by the searching seething hands of destruction.
Undulating.
Beneath the shimmer of the night.
A quiet serenade from the moon.
A whisper of velvet ink.
Leaving a love note of existential longing.
All along her black silk cliffs of joyful despair.
She awakens. From the depths an indigo haze of twilight. She dawns. Her world, from her eyes,
an eternal metamorphosing. A painted rose of tribute to a glimmering crepuscular affair.
Amber Noel Wilbur is creative writing graduate of Cardinal Stritch University, born and raised in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She written poetry about nature, beauty, chaos, life, death, and spirituality, for over twenty years. Poetry is her form of meditation and how she expresses her perspective on and appreciation for existence. She has also published five books of poetry on Amazon, and is currently working on a new collection, and a new novel. The attached poem is her take on a woman's life and her inner secret world, her umwelt. It captures this world as a metaphor, as if she were a painting of a garden.
