Hey November

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Hey November,

I hear you asking

and this is the truth:

 

Love is a skinned knee

open and expectant

Hope is turning the light off

even when the darkness is loud

Peace is the rhythm of

the unsettledness.

 

And this is the truth:

she lives on in photographs

younger faces and greener grasses

and her laugh is the echo

you’re still waiting for.

The truth is this:

I found a note from the life before

and an old chocolate bar

and I remembered that I forgot

that even bitterness tastes sweeter

the second time around.

 

And this:

What I would give for a cup of juice

and a hardwood floor

and the sound of a hundred people

holding their breaths

holding

holding on

for the sunrise that will surely come

even without our striving.

 

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