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these days,seems like times are changinslower than normal.it's different,i'm still getting used to it.there was a time,when i thoughteveryone was innocent.nobody had a thing to hide.now i know better.i've learned my lessons,ones not taught in classrooms.it happened the hard way.
even in the sunlight,you are blind.
if i were a word of hate,would you notice me more?it doesn't take much windto move the ocean,but how many wavesdoes it take to move you?it wasn't a question of faith.the water was salty-full of my tears.it would hold you upif you foundyou couldn't swim.if you found you were suddenly drowning,who would be thereto pull you out?if the albatross saw you,he would keep flying.there is no redemptionfor you here.the wind would try to helpyou out,but it is not strong enough for you.it is invisible, and so,it is not real.it would brush your cheek,tell you to be safe,but you would not hear it.you are drowning.drowned.
just keep holding on.the water will pull you out, yes,but it will always push you back.and i will always bethe shoreline.i will hug you back,and kiss the saltfrom your eyelids.until there is nothing left,nothing but your heart.and i will feed your heartto the moon,and the moon willthrow your heartto the sky,and you will be the stars.so just keep holding on.
you once told mei was like the sea.that i was rough,wild, untame-able.but that only meanti had a mind of my own,or so i thought.and then you toldme what you meant,that it was the windthat changed my fates.it was the windwho was guiding me, changing me, movingmy currents.you told mei did not follow wherei wanted to go,that my decisions were never mine.if i manage to pull myselfout of the water,i'll be waiting for the windto blow you down.
persephone once told meit was warmerliving with her God of Death,closer to the heart of the earth.she told meit was colderin our worldthat she regretted eating the fruit her mother gave her.but it was irresistible,and so, it tied her downonce more,until the leaves changed colours.and then she told me,her heart was always cold.but her mother shookher head, and scoopedmore food onto her plate.
sometimes screaming is nothard enough.if i was the one to follow you,take a dayin your foosteps even,would i still see your mistakesfor what they are?this is a lonely life,full of words that don'tmean what they should,what they do.but i know what stepsnot to take,to keep my distance,the way you never did.because sometimes my screamingis just not hard enoughfor you to hear.
this was the year the rain came earlyit dragged you out of bedwhen you heard it pounding,maybe it soundedas if someone was knocking.this was the yearthe housegot flooded-no surprise to us,we had not ignoredthe evacuation call.but you are stubborn,and you stayed.you yelled, you heldon to everythingwe'd left behind-most of it.then the phoneline went downand we didn't hear from you."not much difference,"
mother said.when we came homewe found youfloating alone"not much difference,"
i said.but the rains had notchanged you,had not evenpierced your skin.instead you told usof the great flood ofour ancestors,stories from our past.oh you were proud.but you still could notsee what youwere not holding.
