Tag: life

a word

When I was a child, I copied
the way you moved
and I would ask,
What should I call you?

I tried to find
a word I hadn’t
learned yet,

a word beyond
what a child could understand.
It was something unfamiliar,

Now, as an adult, I still
find myself asking,
What should I call you?

There are no gestures now.
I don’t understand
That’s what it means to grow older.

This is a shadow,
and this, too,
is part of life.

still.

​a small candle sits close by

giving off just enough light

to brighten the room.

it gives off a little warmth

and glows softly in the corner.

i left the curtains open

and decided to leave them that way

outside, everything is perfectly still.

heavy snow hushes

everything around me.

even the snow itself

falls without a sound,

leaving no trace

on this quiet night

the world now

feels monochromatic:

white snow and dark tree branches.

white snow and darkening tree branches

it feels like the world

is turning inward,

gently closing in.

how many times

have i truly been present

like this before,

like i am tonight?

have i ever held

my breath, quiet,

and myself, just waiting

for the sound of daylight

to fade away?

for the sound

of daylight

to drift quietly away like

the faint warmth left behind by a candle.