we are the very last
to understand
a dying language,
a vernacular shared only
by the space between us

I hold out my hand and
wait
for a sound
to spill out from my fingertips,
like an unhinged jaw
yearning to speak –
a tangible silence swallowing the words
I do not remember how to say

the first light of the morning
pervades the air around us;
it begs me to speak –
and still, nothing

nothing:
a noiseless surrender;
I give myself to the air surrounding me
and pray you might find a way
to translate my breathing

in this room,
in this early morning light,
I am losing myself
in translation
and we are losing touch
altogether

we are holding out our hands and waiting,
like an unhinged jaw
trying to speak a lost language;
it is evident that this is a silence
that refuses to be
broken

it’s a long way down
from here.
sometimes nothing is gentle,
sometimes everything burns,
and sometimes
you just have to let it.
watch the fire as it consumes you
and everything else.
it’s okay.
sometimes the burns remind you
that you’re alive.
if you feel the heat, don’t let it go -
try to catch the sunlight in your mouth
and feel the world move within you.

it’s a long way down from here
so remember to enjoy the view.
if you do fall, remember
to dive headfirst.
dive headfirst into everything
and don’t be afraid
of hitting the ground.
let the adrenaline remind you
that you’re breathing.
it’s not always easy to stay steady,
so let the wind shake you.
it’s alright.
no one is as strong as they believe.
so fall away into the world,
feel everything you can
at your own expense.

it’s a long way down from here
so take in this moment
and let it push you over the edge.

we are flickering lights,
passing thoughts.
we are not boundless.

we are finite beings,
centered now only
by the laws of gravity.

there is no magic here.
however,
if you stay still long enough
you may mistake the silence
as something close.

this is no apology.
this is no redemption,
for we are already made of stardust,
among other fallen things.

the universe may move within us
but we do not move within it.

this life is only as wonderful
as we force ourselves to believe.
my dear,
you cannot cheat fate.

try as you might,
there is no breaking the fourth wall.
not here, not now.

but all of this is no excuse
not to love.
without it,
we are mere wanderers
and occupied space.

this is the secret to life:
only let go
if holding on hurts worse.

time places limits upon us.
take advantage of the moment
while you are still in it.

we are only flickering lights,
passing thoughts.
we are not boundless.

so let love move you.
let it draw your boundaries
with the most permanent of inks.

love makes us vulnerable.
the secret of life is to let it.

one day you might show up laughing
and i’ll let you in the front door
and we’ll sit and talk about the way time passes
faster for me since the day
you walked out the threshold

some day i’ll have to dig up the promises
we have buried in these backyards

once when i was nine i popped a red balloon
and out came my seven-year-old self’s seventh birthday wish
wrapped in unsigned birthday cards
(the ninety-nine cent kind)
and two-ply kleenexes

i had trouble blowing out the candles and that’s when I heard,
“hey, dandelion mouth
you know wishes are better left alone”

i cried so much that year
2009, the rolling snowball
i, dandelion mouth, became the blockade
i became to stoppage

and sometimes i had trouble running so every now and again someone said,
“you ought to just let the sky hit you and call it a day because
we’re all made of rain anyway”

from then on I realized
i’m not the softest girl you’ll ever get to touch
but we both knew that from the get go

i’m just hoping to treat you gentle enough to make you want to stay
for a while
sit down
have some coffee
cream & sugar
we aren’t all made of rose petals and hallmark cards
you know that better than i
the concept of perfection isn’t an entirely insane idea
but it’s sure close

you might meet the rain the same way you do me
with open arms and a cold shoulder
try to catch the words on your tongue
it won’t always be sunny
sometimes the rain will rust the things you treasure most
but it’s okay
we’re all made of it anyway

one day you might show up laughing
and i’ll remind myself not to let the leaks show through
because after all
it’s just time slipping through the cracks
a reminder of all the blown out candles
of all the unsigned hallmark cards

it’s just the rain
and besides
we’re all made of it anyway

can i ask a favor?
let me climb all the way up
through the chalk of the night
scatters of seeping ivory and wan silver
treading on the tiny reminders of design
wading knee-deep through the tide of marbled moon's blood
luminescent and whispering
in flickering voices
and twinkling smiles
and let me slumber
amongst their soft and burning hues
floating in ebony waters
overflowing with splendor

lean over the edge
into a pool of pungent wistfulness
on the other side of a memory
scrawled over crumpled pages
or in the depths of a silent tear
reaching out for lost history
falling gold and hushed wafts of jasmine
rising notes of the promised tomorrow
stitching together the divide

there hides a secret in the heart of the ferns
stars sing over this gilded corner of pixie homes and rippled pool
cool tears of the saturated mountain heights flow down the sloped arms
of hills, sprouting with seeds and clovers
to spill into the lake, dancing dragonfly wings
jasper and honey
here the lilies form goldfish ceilings
hearing every incantation above and below
rimmed stalks surround them, soft and tall
rabbits run wild, lacing round trunks of magnolia and pear
olive and ancient dogwood
the air sings of fairy work, a breathing painting of magic

We’d been together so long, it seemed
That nothing could tear us apart,
We lived our lives in a world of dreams
And Barbara lived in my heart,
But frost had covered the window pane
And then it began to snow,
As Barbara turned, with a look of pain
And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’

I didn’t know what she meant at first
As I looked up from my book,
“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again
As she quelled my heart with a look.
‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,
And her face was set in stone,
‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,
‘I want to be left alone.’

Then suddenly all confusion reined
I didn’t know what to say,
Whatever had brought this mood on her,
I wished it would go away.
But she was firm, and she packed my things
And ushered me out the door,
I stood there shivering in the cold
To be back on my own once more.

I found a flat and I camped the night
There was barely a stick or chair,
I’d have to buy all the furniture
To make it a home in there.
But I sat and cried in the empty room
As the question came back, ‘Why?’
I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,
I thought I wanted to die.

I went to her with my questions, but
She slammed the door in my face,
Whatever love she had had for me
Had vanished, without a trace.
It hurt so much that she cut me off
With never so much as a sigh,
I called that all that I wanted was
To tell me the reason, why?

The roses had bloomed so late that year
Were still in the garden bed,
We’d always tended the bush with joy,
We both loved the colour red,
So I snipped one off as I left one day,
And planted it under her door,
To let her know that I loved her still
I didn’t know how to say more.

Her brother called in a week or so,
Said she was in hospital,
She’d gone in just for a minor cure
And thought that he’d better tell.
So I caught the bus and I went on down
With a quaking fear in my heart,
She hadn’t said there was something wrong
Before she tore us apart.

The doctor came in his long white coat,
His brow and his face was grim,
I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’
He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.
Your wife just passed from the surgery,
But she pulled, from under her clothes,
And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’
In his hand was a red, red rose.

David Lewis Paget