Postscript

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his, mine.       smile, eyes, four beauties—
            sparked from the embers
opposites attract, Cupid’s attack—
           and all that passed in the years between
my children, my loves, a postscript written
          when frontlines
      ricocheted across the world, when poison
drizzled into puddles,          swamped, unstirred
             (but eventually they came for everyone)
              Hands Up!   Hands Up!
            arms around      the upstanding obliterated witnesses found,
                         mounted. gassed.
                   cuffed—      if you stood up
              Unhealed. Boys. Stay. Masked.
my darlings, when the rain falls arrowslant
              look skyward for her curves of beauty
       live within the touch of trees
             learn how to pray—     by noticing
         silhouettes, komorebi in Spring is Conduit—
             rainbows sketched, tears dripped
               from branches dropping sympathy
                       forgive dearest Winter her empty mouth—
             don't doubt her purge, she Cycles
          all the kisses you have left inside
   be grateful when what you have is enough,
              (is enough, is enough)
         let the sun's soft seep onto your skin,
          as the soothe of being understood
       take big billowing walks, swallows of whomever helps you grow,
  heal with who you love,  not always comfortable
       hellish at times. stay the course, Magnets are plotting you. Trust them.
 avoid the easy of the easy kind of love and living,
    you won’t care for it much in the end.
             when you feel as ripped limb, emptied—   wait for the day after tomorrow
     before saying anything big. procreate imaginative cathedrals of your interiority
                 a mystery, wholly alive—
     burn for justice—    speak up when others can’t
       surrender your body to the soothe of what its animal needs
        hold hands when you can
         when words are not needed, a body can attune
         as the thrill of a song sung live in a room
      melt into music—   its breath will open you
       find time for the sorts of friends
       who matter much,    to stay in touch—
             the lassos of levity
         cartwheel leaves back to life
                half-moon's shadow
                         I love you so—
                (am always, the other half)

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published