We are concave,
folding in on ourselves,
trying to find the other half,
the pieces that seem to be missing.

We are lost,
on a dark road outside,
no sense of direction,
but a sense of missing home.

We are scared,
of what's to come,
what has come,
what is coming?

We have hope.
That the hole will be filled.
The streetlights to turn on.
To be okay with what came.