A black and white dog
shaped like a mop
bops in front of you.
His ears flop like butterfly wings
as he bops around,
his fur jangling
like string in the wind.
His eyes blue,
piercing blue,
more blue than the ocean,
than the stripe in your pride flag,
than the negatives in your photo class,
yet shine with the comfort of the stars
as he bops along the beaten path,
cutting through the pine and log in his way.
Your friend smokes a joint
as you walk.
He stunts his blunt out
on the trees
that burn before they have a chance to survive.
You cough.
Smoking was never really your thing.
So instead you close your eyes
and listen to the birds’ tweet
throughout the canopy hanging above you,
their tweets creating a melody
that surrounds you
as you walk.
You attempt to fill your nose
with the sweet smell of grass and pine.
Stand tall like the trees
your friend stunts their blunt out on
when the dog shaped like a mop
with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen
waits for you.
He stands there
as you huff and puff your way
up the incline in the trail.
You say “I’m here” to him
so he knows you’re catching up
with everyone else.
Once you finally make your way,
your steps in line with your friend and him,
he bops along down the trail,
his ears flopping like butterfly wings,
his body wiggling as his muddy paws
make contact with the ground.
When you get a good look at him,
you can see he’s smiling.
You’ve learned this semester
that healing isn’t linear.
That sometimes you burn
before you have a chance to survive.
That sometimes others suffocate you
and your words stir up in your throat
with no way out.
That sometimes the thunderstorms
in your brain rage too loudly.
But as the dog stands
waiting for you to catch up with your friend,
its blue eyes piercing
yet full of comfort and joy,
you realize
today is a good day.
