biglove/littlelove

Vipassana

exhale cinder

inhale the morning dew

Wake up scared. Crying but without tears. For just a moment, the images on the news last night felt real. But the kind of reality twisted by dream-logic where all things happen at once. All the moments that other people have lived (the ones of flesh and bombs, of torture and fire, of platitudes and otherness) have happened, are happening, will happen. It envelopes, casts away the security of distance and in the moment between sleeping and wakefulness he implodes. He is a supernova sending it’s scattered light across the galaxy, a warning for those who feel too much, too quickly.

Reaching out

across morning birdsong

rest a hand on her breath