.we walk.

[This is something I wrote a few years ago, during one of my particularly prolific (read: difficult) periods.  I’ve never shared it with anyone; I’d forgotten it existed, actually, until I stumbled upon it this evening while trying to organize some things.  I wanted to post it, as a reminder to myself… of lessons, and cost, and of how far it is possible to travel with someone.]


[we walk]

we walk below a thunderstorm
and count the seconds between
each blinding flash
and the baleful roar that follows

i am wishing again for silence

but because i care for you
and because you are a dangerous person to care for
(you have settled on thunderstorms)
i give you whatever words come to mind
between the thunderclaps –

it matters less what we are saying
than that we are here at all;
so impressed are we at our own resurrection
that it seems silence is not something we will abide.

and yet i am wishing again for silence
with you
a gentle nighttime quiet
the warm hush of bodies shifting together during sleep
and despising my own sentimentality
that i would still be jealous of the rain on your skin
after all this

and we are counting the seconds – one one thousand –
we count – two one thousand –
between the blindingly obvious
– three one thousand –
and the rumbling aftershocks
– dull but an ache nonetheless –
we are shaking our heads at our mistiming
– how many miles off? –

and i am wishing
again
for a kind of silence,
something befitting the memory
of the seconds between what is wordless
and real, this remaining truth,

between what could have been

and what is.

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Filed under lightning and a lightning bug, memories

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