quiet
and the day needs to rest
bright sun and clouds crept low against my skin
made it breathe in life and joy and
fear
that i kept down
and pushed away
change is the centrifuge keeping me from
breaking into particles that
separate
are unbearable
and small.
i can trust this
i think.
no edict, no scribbled vows or
poetic-written promises
spoken for a judge or holy
shaman-man could make this any more
than what it is:
the promise, implied
and whispered to the darkness
this is where we are
and this is where we’ll stay.
April Fox 
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