we were once children

we were once children, weren’t we?

wading through,

waiting for answers

to questions we’ve had

since the dawn of time.

and who are we

when the taste of childhood

is sweet only because it slipped

through our quivering fingers?

what more can we offer

the world,

as crickets fill our chests—

both wounded

and unable to stop moving,

frozen in time

and flung forward

too fast to measure?

it is uncomfortable

to see what their love looks like,

when our only true love

is of covenant blood,

not water.

so the kind words,

the unwavering wonder,

are out of our lifetime.

we were once children, weren’t we—

wasted,

and reclaimed.

now the wonder of this world

heals us.

all we can do

is sew up the wounds

and sit still,

wrapped around each other,

universe-sent.

and still,

we have crickets in our chest.

and still,

we do not understand

the love you have in water.

but we have each other,

and suspended animation.

and spectacular monsters

will not keep us

from home.