To the me of a year ago2 April 2013
It’s odd to think that the letters I used to address to some distant me, months or years ahead, would find their destination here and now, and I have to wonder what I’d make of them. So far removed now, like taking five steps back before meeting your own look in the mirror, and so much in all that space between. I like to think that someday, somehow, we’ll have a way to let the tides roll back, and when we do you’ll be the first person I come to. Oh, I know you don’t need me. Obviously you’re me now and you made it through. But that’s what I’d want to show you— you made it. You fought so hard for so long and it was all worth it just like you dreamed it might be.
Dreaming. You did a lot of it, I remember, when the world took on that dusky veil and everything felt foggy and faraway. There’s something beautiful about it though, and I know you’d agree. The way the stars shine through it— un
I am a cosmosI am five feet three inches of skin
and I am a cosmos
I am one continuous lightning strike
enclosed in a ribcage,
I am saltwater currents and rivers
rushing outward, forward, back, in total darkness.
These joints and limbs are the product
of a million years, or more,
a template set into motion with a single calculating touch
by the Architect of the stars.