we refused the bridge
there is joy in the valley
wading the river
ascending to sit a spell
peace in one curved thing
we share in lives of edges
and the need to choose a side
I actually posted this one when I first made this account, but nobody saw it then. It's about the perception of time and how it may be an illusion created by our brains.
a fingertip
brush
remembers
edges skirted
stitched stretched fabrics
or carefully knit words
and promises
unmade and unbroken
the shape of dawn
through curtains
unseen
and where
skins end
and selves begin
blurred
and
dreamt
only
it's not
that i dislike people
or not just that
but more
that i require
silence
space
and time
to fill
as i choose
and a chance
to visit with myself
knowing hours
are always shorter
than we would wish
and work and play
both remain
outstanding
and
increasingly
demanding
what does no pain feel like
is it calm
like sitting in sunlight
warm but not burning
or safe under the covers
knowing there is time
and you are allowed to sleep
is it gentle
that absence of ache and stab
does it mean anything
if it's just normal
thirty years
of this
give or take
this is one of the days
i can feel myself
slowly forgetting
how to be a person
the air
fuels you
return it
with blessing
and the knitted
breathed vibrations
in the room
shake us
and make us
more
than we were
so we all
return
better