For Loren B.
When I was
younger than today
I sat at the edge of the night
and plunged myself
into the night’s dark mouth,
and fell for three winters.
and then suddenly
I came to a halt
in the depth of
4000 meters,
from a string attached
to my waist.
I am older now,
and my eyes have learned
how to sing,
and my heart is wide
open
like the gates of heaven on the
promised day.
but there’s
a mark on my chest
that looks
like the stars
of that night.
when I wake up
tomorrow
I will walk as far
as I could,
and then when I
can’t walk further,
I will burst
open,
like the cherry blossoms
in the hands of spring.
And now
you are lost
and I see you packing your bags,
to go sit on the edge of the night
to pass through the valley of silence,
to be afloat in the space.
I will be honest with you,
the cosmic storms will cut your
beautiful skin
and you will bleed.
and the night will tremble
in pain,
silence will stare at you from every corner,
windows will be restless,
eating will be difficult,
and don’t even bother with sleeping,
or looking at yourself in the mirror.
It’s ok.
I know you must despair,
and I know you must go,
but don’t forget
that you are here.
that we are here.
and life is here.
Take my name
spin in to a string
and tie it to your waist.
I will pull you back,
when you need me to.
now go on
break your heart
so that it never closes again.
3.26.18
D.C.
One Poem At A Time 