By the way
I don’t know what I came here for.
I don’t know why
I don’t cry anymore.
I don’t know how leaps of faith should begin.
But I think you might be
medicine.
I think that, maybe, you just might be
the wind
Taking me somewhere, someplace out here,
that I've never been.
And I thought love was
something that you found.
Picked up some pieces, and you carried them
around.
And when you had enough,
you set them down.
And built a shelter,
so you wouldn’t drown,
and
prayed
for good weather.
And prayed, for good weather.
And by the way, I thought love was what you lost.
Something that hurt you, put you so high up on a cross.
Something you paid for,
sometimes too much for,
at too high a cost.
And I thought love was
something you forget.
Memories’ you traded for
whatever you found next.
Something that ached,
like a red, red sunset.
Something that pulled the breath
right out your chest.
And by the way,
I didn’t know I was a
prayer
Until the leaves fell
all around us
and I was
bare
And we made some love,
out of nothing,
out of what we had to spare.
T he way a tree
makes
wood
from air.
About the Creator
Ruthie
Singer in storms.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.