nocturne for survivors

Today, I challenge you to write a nocturne.

it is the same
rivers moving through me at the speed of light
carrying the weight of oxygen
telling me live
even now i must be told
the pale whisper is old
but still present

what nearly took me waits for me
that great unending sadness
the well inside me that holds no water
echoes down and down
with memories of every time i said no
and was overcome
every time i claimed the miracle
and was discarded, mundane
every moment i gather a snapped noose,
tuck a hushed slight in my back pocket
accumulating my pain
our suffering
having to prove
all the time
the burden

and when night falls
sometimes we’re alone with the echoes
waiting for chariots
waiting, quiet,
with suitcases bulging all around us
all the detritus of now
all that we can’t leave behind
because no one believes us yet

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