greystarlight

A year of darkness now stretches behind Like a fever dream drenched in panic, upside down; There has been no waking. Days, weeks, months without end, it seems – time elongated and compressed in waves of news cycles and data points. Loss stacked upon loss, block upon block by A careless hand, the tower Teeters. We fear it will continue, even as We know, worse, it may not. Thoughts come and go, sometimes only In whispers While dread spirals deep in the pits of our stomachs. We are alone, each of us Inside four empty walls, a roof that covers But no longer protects. Our voices bounce against corners, echo back Distorted notions that strike us as truth. We squint through windows shrouded in dust Not art nor science nor word of gods can penetrate. Close your eyes; shout louder. Still there are things that ground me: A wisp of steam curling thin off hot coffee in the cold quiet morning; A glimpse of tree branches through my window, stretching up to open sky; The dog’s sleepy sigh, body