December 30, 2014

a dream

For a moment, it all disappeared: the potholes tripping up your stride,
the broken love story, the difficult decision, the rigor of worry about things
you know you can't possibly fix. Suddenly, some vacuum sucked it all inside
and you leaned back, unimpeded, innocent, casual with your gaze, the stings
of your life returned to their nascent nettles. For a moment, you were able 
to neutralize your place in the world, find fresh buoyancy in the waves.
For a moment, you saw, even, the geometry of loss, each cradle
that holds our grief so steady, each heartbeat threading through the maze.
But this was no sunny island reverie, some implausible and pointless dream. 
It was you, remembering where you've always been.