lengthly in its words
it was larger in substance
as the small words formed
to reveal the details of a life
lived
at times alongside
mine
and other times far away
We live in different places
but both are married
both have children
both tried to be better parents
than the examples we'd seen
before
the continents different
but the struggles still very similar
What anxiety is left from a past moment
that we feel in the present
as if the past
is somehow catapulted
into the now, into the present
How can it be that my breath comes in bursts
and my heart somehow tries to beat out of my chest
As breath calms, and my heart returns to its normal rythm,
I think what was that? Why did I
feel so scared?
Who can help me if it happens again
Where do we turn as
adults when the fear,
the panic, the pain of our childhoods stands up before us?
But a friend writes me an email
and we talk about how we laughed
we talk about
how we danced all night sometimes,
running to catch the ferry to go home to
houses
that weren't always as welcoming as they could've been.
we write back and
forth about the time
when we only thought about what the next song was
and if it
would be good enough to continue dancing
or should we go sit on the steps and
drag a breath
of sweet clove smoke from an aquaintance we found outside.
We
write about our pain, and our loves
write about our history and a hoped for
future
we continue to tell each other stories that we shared
and stories we
didnt but we continue to write, emails,
back and forth across time zones and
oceans, across time
a friend wrote me an email.
