hands

 

By Liz Chesla

 

Stumbledrunk,

you miss the porch step and

crash into the railing.

I am late, and I know

what happens in the waiting.

The brandy on your breath whispers

in my ear: “We’re sorry.

Numb is better than afraid.

Forgetting is easier than remembering.”

I want to tell you that I’m here now,

that I’ll always be here.

I want you to know that I forgave you long ago,

before I knew how much there was to forgive.

But I don’t. Instead,

I marvel at the darkness,

at how many stars you can see out here,

at how many moths dance in the glow of the porch light,

drawn relentlessly toward what shines.

Maybe tomorrow we will remember.

For now,

you take a bag,

I take your hand,

and we stumble inside.

 

Liz ChelseaLiz Chesla, MA, CYT tends to think too much and sleep too little but is ever so slowly finding her way toward balance. Founder of Body Language Yoga (follow here on Facebook), Liz teaches yoga and writing as tools to support health, healing and happiness. Trained in working with survivors of trauma, Liz is passionate about helping survivors reconnect to their bodies and their hearts. She offers yoga workshops for writers and writing workshops for anyone wanting to tap into the healing power of story.

Photo: dreams-in-my-sky/tumblr

Editor: Dana Gornall

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