Spread your fingers wide, arms raised
towards the sky, like the sun
is pulling you to new heights,
to open spaces now that your hands
are no longer wrapped tight around your body
with impossibilities repeating.
Meet your feelings as peace doves,
treat their wounds, gather up their spilled blood.
Let the daylight soak into the scars on your exposed skin,
breathe in to your love coming home.
There is a person standing in front of you
signalling your attention
‘pick me, pick me’
who might not have the answers
but you need faith to ask the questions
next time you think
those bone-tired habits of self-wreckage
are better than the unconditional love of another
remember you are wrong
“I don’t just want you to be someone I remember”.
Then show me the exact space you hold for me in your heart,
that it does not sink under the weight.
Maybe I’m already just a memory you didn’t linger long enough to capture.
Here’s what I don’t want you to know about me:
- I keep my eggs in a few baskets
so no one can break all of me at once.
- I’ll only ever hint at my monsters
to hide the fact they still jump out of my bed at any time.
And if you know about them they’ll haunt you too.
- You cannot unknow what I tell you
so I’ll probably not tell you much.
- I’d never grow cynical of love
but I’m cynical of you lasting
because life has taught me that most people leave.
The time is now
it has always been now
but sometimes the time is not quite yet
and you have to keep feeling
what you are feeling
till you need not feel it anymore.
Both are duly powerful
and both can revive you;
time, after all, is just temporary.