Rendition

it was not until barren plains made a home in me, lips were chewed from the search for something I didn’t and could never possess (I thought) endlessly, I felt awash, chiseling new geography my dusty visage changed posture, carving numbers into my spine I found an answer (but was it too little too late? pink lines marked a path but still, I hadn’t wanted to see, I clenched my hands and strange visions of whiteness lined every road I traveled … I never looked, choosing instead with a single embrace to seduce the dark, always thinking, I could have whatever end of beginning I sought) all it would have taken was one step into light, and my agony would have eased my truth was finding that nothing is ever over, in the living of a life is the morning of death perpetually I now see threads of ourselves wind around the hand of mother-time, remembrance being her art but now, I forgive without thought sliding between her fingers, unclenching mine