hell is a pair of hands. heaven is, too.

i had never come so close to protection like you. with such gravity and depth, such friction i nearly refused my own breathing just to relieve the heat. in the presence of power, the mind is first stripped of itself, followed blindly by the body. we are born undone by love and turned away from what we believe (hold fast). this has become a day like all the others. it has become a night after a night alone with the night itself: a virgin, a war crime, a bargaining chip. a static hall of secret pain, hushed low tones wrenched at the hinge of the half-beaten heart.

tapping upon the door, tapping upon the window sill, as the rain bleeds itself wet with the cold movement of the passing of time. to think of summer underneath willowy trees, to imagine sunlight burning through leaves; these are the gifts we grant ourselves in times of grief. imaginings. fleeting silhouettes. to be taken away. to make a frail cup of steaming tea and tuck our fears to bed until a brighter morning. i wish every voice would say it. but they each fell apart, not one after another but all at once, because of each other. the noise and the silence, both loud in disgust.

i wish we had no reason to fight so hard (hold fast).

as if to eat the fog and live like freedom, we exist as ghosts gliding alone over the stone gray hills. soaked in smoke, calling on death. graveyards in the clutch of our heels. reflections in the crystal droplets suspended, would i allow myself a drink. humbled grasses grow weary atop the soul of an afterlife promised, then revoked. children taken from children. blood of innocents in the breaking of bread.

the world offers no hand. the dark, no shadow figure with which to speak.

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