–
If I said that I missed you,
–
If I said that I still thought of you
smiling across the rug
peering down shrouded corridors
between feathers
bird seed
or prints in soil
–
it would be true.
–
–
We always feel so different,
our unfamiliar ropes
fingers finding music through darkness
and hesitation
unsteady, uncertain
–
in dim rooms that gradually brighten.
–
we reinvent, learn to cherish
to thrive in that strange new new,
that tricky obstacle
ardent question
–
to arrive at welcome
at a borderless territory
at something like us.
–
–
If I said that I missed you
–
dancing with the flowers
singing into reflection
and joy
–
it would be true.
–
Spreading Fire
Related Blogposts
decantation. the natural phenomenon of separating different elements over time and gravity. no tools. time. we are given time. more than ever, more than we are used to, more than we think we need. we just stand there, we just stay, we only are. we are kindly brought to stillness.…
From a severed point painfully gently venerable hoar drops shades of rime splinter of opaque written words unmoor Timer