There is absolution
In the curve of your shoulder-
The ecstasy of grief and longing
And the places we once belonged.
It's never as easy as the things you say.
It goes too deep right now -
A shadow in living skin,
And darker things so rare
That we do not name them.
All will build, finish and fall,
Dripping warm and static.
Press harder -
Maybe it doesn't mean anything
If we can't see it happening.
No time to dream -
Light bleeds through the cracks
Until our hands are clean -
Our refuge and renewal.
We shine and seek to mend,
And with no wind to steal our words,
We claim them and render them pure.