calling along the lines reflected
I am drawn in sunlight and soft petals
above and below
please remind me that the tearing
at my soul is from my own fingers
not the wind or ice
or absence

whether a still pond or congested street
smacks me into now
who has to realize
but the sleeping and restless soul
that haunts the corners
of my mind
who has to change and work
unfold and unknot
the rope and other bits
floating still

just me

I listen to the breathing
the wheezing and crying
the shouting and utter silence
through the open window
until I can stand it no longer

fingers dipped in the pond
I remember.

above
below
and everything inbetween
~

leigh-anne fraser