Author: Elizabeth Maynard

You promise yourself
again
to step down from the block
It is not them
but you
who trades yourself so cheaply

The day after yawns empty
as grief plays fear's tune
promises only more calamity

It is such a great small thing
to be kind, gentle in word
deed, and gaze
ask the small question
remember love lost
longed for and never known

Each flower bends, lends
its soft center to your kiss
your sweet heart made light

You opened me with a scalpel:
I did not feel my skin make way
or know each part loosened
I felt only beating fear
the resolve to survive
what I could not escape
the chill of the room
as each nauseating wave
swept over but could not break me
It took every aching day
each mending stitch
to bring sense to every part
and see myself whole

The light dances here
over brick and cobble
bougainvillea's spiny fingers cling
she reaches skyward
to wash morning in crimson flame

I saw a man kick a dog
winced and recoiled into myself
even a cur does not deserve
a blow like that
but it tells me how low
this man must feel to
press another into dust like that

This air leaves my lungs
colder than I first inhaled
your loved chilled too deep

Put an ocean between
yourself and this heartache
here at the end of the world
you have no choice
but to see each thing
for its insignificance
know the smallness
of your own life
the vastness of a sea
as it swallows you whole

Tonight it is enough for me
to imagine you there
on the other side of the world
I lean into darkness
night brightened by the small lights
of imagination and longing
the life we could find together
if we could be timeless