I am distances,
salted silent as the sea, still in the last light
slipping through absent palms
adrift in the hush of a faraway day
a jar breaks open a trembling sound
shards of tide scatter, curling like smoke
its cry strips quiet
from walls that never knew my name
no ears caught the fracture, time folded inward
splitting like thin ice beneath unsteady feet
I chewed back a storm that still dreams
in my mother tongue
in a kitchen not mine
tiles hum softly in indifferent time
while echoes whisper in a song I left behind
a flicker lost in phantom praise
here I dine on hush and hunger blooms
in shapes unfamiliar, longing a foreign flavor
miles coil inside glass, the unspoken toll of crossing
from who I was, to the ghost that eats at my table
amid folds of lingering hours
I feel old embers follow me
a held breath that warms no lungs
a silent name fading in devotion
in that tiny fracture
resilience bruised like bending light
solitude hums a hidden anthem
I remain a shape of courage
but oh,
I am so very tired
No Responses