Tuesday
When I look at the moon, and the way it pushes
and pulls the tide toward itself, I am reminded of your inconsistency.
the way I thought I could never make up my mind,
but in reality I had decided to love you from the very beginning.
If your heart had been as solid and unmoving in your resolve to love
as your lips said you were, your eyes and mine might have
still been intertwined, as fiercely locked together as the sun and moon are.
it’s just unfortunate, that someone who talked so much about love
and the way the word made her heart move
could only see herself, even when being held by arms that wanted nothing else
but to cherish forever.
So now, every time I stumble into a memory of you - and there are many,
I have to wipe my tears away with my shaking forearm and
remind myself that this darkness will not last forever.
Hope is not dead, despite the lack of light right now.
And when I pay attention, I start to see the sparks.
Sparks that fly every time the hand of one of my brothers
grips my trembling shoulder, looks me dead in the face, and says
“You are not alone.”
Never alone.
