falling where I stand
fireworks and splinters
of every moment's joy
waving back like seas.
Every time I wonder--
if this is the last time
Every time I remember--
it could be the last time
I keep up conversations
with my body, its borders
while stars fall into my lap,
songs dissolve into laughter.
Pic: One of Max's many cuddly contortions with Big A.
6 comments:
Oooooof. The picture with this poem. I love it, but it's so sad.
Nice Photo.
This poem is beautiful, Maya.
Thank you, Sarah and Gillian.
I keep reading it and hoping it doesn't mean bad news for Big A or any of your loved ones.
Steph--Sorry how memento mori that sounds. Not quite so dire, but it is a bit hairy for us as we wait for a procedure that will let us know more in Feb.
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