While preparing the briefcase I selected to bring on the trip,

I found a drivers lisence I had been looking for for a year,

My mother found hers on the same day.

I found also a slew of letters;

Some imbued with love,

Others still dangling pain,

And a postcard- that never reached my grandmother.

I cried openly at the dinner table and made love to a stranger,

I wrote this before I did both those things

And went through with neither,

What could that mean for me?

An urgent request came through for an appointment at the hospital,

Would a sensuous society ease my squabbles with mortality

It is hard to sense stillness when life blows its winds,

So much change

Yet one thing remains constant-

That which I have come here to share

I left the journal I was to compile this all in on the plane,

It excites me that another might combine my thoughts with theirs

The past few days I have felt an open wound,

I have quiet fear for what Sisters Hope may fill it with.