Memory, it’s so faulty, isn’t it?
Forgot how sweet the air sits against my skin here
Not the birdsong, never that,
But still it rings anew, like I’ve not heard it clearly until today
Is it me? Have I changed?
Or do we simply push away
The temptation of memories that will us to stretch ourselves further
We tell ourselves, no, we must be exaggerating
We must have forgotten the sour parts
It cannot be that good
But what if you allow yourself to acknowledge the deep knowing
That it is?
Even if that truth threatens to blow apart all that your world now is?
We are more afraid to step into the unknown that could be greater than we ever dreamed
Than to stick, stuck, planted in ground
That no longer nourishes
Perhaps never did.
When fear and comfort rule
We lose the infinite depth
Of what could be.
We forfeit our beautiful possibility.
Afraid, exhausted, lost and exposed
We shudder back into our spot in line
Because this, this we know.
That is shadowy, that is blank
We won’t walk blindly into the light
That could also be night.
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