She woke in the East.
Read a text
Don’t lie to mom about me.

She slept in the West.
And in her dreams
Her heart broke over and over.

In the East, she waited.
Her home was one of a million.
Crammed together like stars in the sky.
Some day, every one will die.

In the West, it rained.
She cried and the sky cried.
And she was alone.
And she loved to be alone.

In the East, a year went by.
Everyone got sick.
Or if they did not get sick,
it was because they hid in the dark from the invisible dragon.

The dragon was a virus.
He stole your light and breath.
Kept it in his cave for months.
Those who got sick were shells of former selves.
Those who did not get sick felt helpless and afraid.

The East.

In the West, a year went by.
Fires blazed across the land,
swallowing homes and shops and churches and gas stations
with giant thirsty gulps.

The people covered their faces and tried to breathe
But there was no air.
They clawed at the ceiling to try and find the morning
But it was dark, ash blocked out the sun.
And they felt helpless and afraid.

The West.

Two Witches.
They each possessed the power to heal.
They each possessed deep capacity for love.
They were each spiritually supported by 700 years
of healers and courageous explorers.

But they were so brokenhearted from the past year
All they could do was accuse each other.

You are the reason for my broken heart.
You are the reason for my broken heart.
You are the reason for my broken heart.
You are the reason for my broken heart.

Really, though.
You are my heart.

Two witches.