A Poetry That Cannot Hold You

Somewhere in the night,

there is a poetry that cannot hold you.

Unsubjected to lackluster words and imagery,

you flew through my dream and brought me to

a kind of neverland

where age returns to youth and

children realize that Older wanted to play with them

but was still tied by the sting of rejection

because we never really outgrow that part of life,

do we?

Somewhere in the night,

I thought I saw your true form — some sort

of psyche, unbound by mortal worries and destiny.

You taught me to see beauty in the undefined, and I

promised to stand

in the moonlight a little longer

and remember that Older simply meant more days

not less living because every moment can be eternity

if freed.

Somewhere in the night,

we danced like lovers meeting for the first

time, and last, and in betweens. You held me

like a poetry that does not tether nor pigeonhole

but weaves my strands

of brokenness into a cohesive whole,

and I realized that Older was a picture of healing

not regret because we must accept change in the face

of uncertainty.

Somewhere in the night,

I decided that I wasn’t afraid of tomorrow.

Then, you whispered something I’ve never

heard but needed, desperately, to know. “I have

always been

with you.” Unsubjected to nightmares, I discovered

that Older wasn’t a meager word or number, rather

a feeling.