The injustice of death brought all other
injustices to the forefront of consciousness.
For a short time, right and wrong were very
clear and the world was very simple, albeit
false and irreconcilably wrong.

I feel your heart inside my own and steadily, like my grasp on air
I am gone
Misplacing myself, faintly
Crawling into your sun
An ache that goes the way it comes
Is it the same for everyone?
Love
I grip my chest
This heart is unconfessed
For it's survival we'll hang on, for a moment then we're gone
I see your eyes alight in my soul
And for days after I can't let go
You'll linger long untill quietly, you're done
Love
Cascading down over me
Interchangeable solutions
Like liquid,
I'll run
Come one, come none
Is this the same for everyone?
For our own survival we'll hang on, for a moment then we're done
I'm crawling into this midnight sun
To infinate eternities, where I saturate in your arms
You are watchful and I, awake
Together we can liberate
And this perception lights the flame
You make me feel like a child again

He was the ghost of all that we could be
And I, endlessly haunted by a vow for cruelty
I was the graveyard where his dreams went to die
But thereupon I remembered,
Someone once told me I could fly

I no longer believe you've left my head, I mean,

the idea of your fingers interlocked with my own

echoes at me in the most unproductive ways.

Inquiry: Where did that intense weather of feeling go?

Hypothesis: Fallow pastures heal, spawning growth and creativity.

Experiment:  Break down finite components of the past into a unit of singularity. Flood with equanimity.

Observation: The wounded child emerges into a tenuous echo of you.

Conclusion/Retrospect: It was nothing more than bad acting.


Sara Fielder © Sep 2018