I slip into your waves and realize that they have never been for me.
The boundless depth.
The rise and fall of the tides.
These have all been a life led in some other atmosphere.
Some other climate.
A different equator.
And yet the idea of the waves lulls me to sleep on my darkest days.
And makes the mornings even darker.
When I wake up
and realize
I haven’t drowned.
(reposting for attribution to my existing account)
I slip into your waves and realize that they have never been for me.
The boundless depth.
The rise and fall of the tides.
These have all been a life led in some other atmosphere.
Some other climate.
A different equator.
And yet the idea of the waves lulls me to sleep on my darkest days.
And makes the mornings even darker.
When I wake up
and realize
I haven’t drowned.
Chris George
Water flowing, pooling in my palms, this is the best water, when you drink with hands cupped, thirst making it delicious, no taste but cool and home
Time stops flying when loss takes residence at your home.
Wings cut short with nowhere else to go
He sits still with you when grief shows up as your dining companion.
There like he isn’t
Staring as an obedient child does, quiet, watching and unmoving
as insanity comes over too
to make deals with you all-alluringly
If only he could do something
push memory away from force-feeding you watered-down dreams
or offer you his company and comfort instead
when death winks your way to come share a drink with him
Time does nothing, none of these things
he just watches on still.
with wings cut short and nowhere to go
he may sit with you
but does nothing else
because he is as helpless as you are
when these dreaded visitors come through your door
The water flowed over the roads, and into the houses. The families moved into the upper rooms of their houses but the water continued to rise. For months, they had experienced drought and now flood. It seemed that whatever they wished for, they would receive in excess.
Chanpheng
It flowed by me as I clung to the mossy rock. The burbling, calm stream cutting through the mountain forest, that will continue long after me. I poured my sorrows into it, and asked it to bring me futures.
I slip into your waves and realize that they have never been for me.
The boundless depth.
The rise and fall of the tides.
These have all been a life led in some other atmosphere.
Some other climate.
A different equator.
And yet the idea of the waves lulls me to sleep on my darkest days.
And makes the mornings even darker.
When I wake up
and realize
I haven’t drowned.
(reposting for attribution to my existing account)
I slip into your waves and realize that they have never been for me.
The boundless depth.
The rise and fall of the tides.
These have all been a life led in some other atmosphere.
Some other climate.
A different equator.
And yet the idea of the waves lulls me to sleep on my darkest days.
And makes the mornings even darker.
When I wake up
and realize
I haven’t drowned.
Water flowing, pooling in my palms, this is the best water, when you drink with hands cupped, thirst making it delicious, no taste but cool and home
Time stops flying when loss takes residence at your home.
Wings cut short with nowhere else to go
He sits still with you when grief shows up as your dining companion.
There like he isn’t
Staring as an obedient child does, quiet, watching and unmoving
as insanity comes over too
to make deals with you all-alluringly
If only he could do something
push memory away from force-feeding you watered-down dreams
or offer you his company and comfort instead
when death winks your way to come share a drink with him
Time does nothing, none of these things
he just watches on still.
with wings cut short and nowhere to go
he may sit with you
but does nothing else
because he is as helpless as you are
when these dreaded visitors come through your door
The water flowed over the roads, and into the houses. The families moved into the upper rooms of their houses but the water continued to rise. For months, they had experienced drought and now flood. It seemed that whatever they wished for, they would receive in excess.
It flowed by me as I clung to the mossy rock. The burbling, calm stream cutting through the mountain forest, that will continue long after me. I poured my sorrows into it, and asked it to bring me futures.