cinaed: I can whistle through my fingers, bulldog a steer, light a fire with two sticks, shoot a pistol with fair accuracy (Ann Sheridan)
[personal profile] cinaed
FOR THE SAKE OF STRANGERS

No matter what the grief, its weight,
we are obliged to carry it.
We rise and gather momentum, the dull strength
that pushes us through crowds.
And then the young boy gives me directions
so avidly. A woman holds the glass door open,
waiting patiently for my empty body to pass through.
All day it continues, each kindness
reaching toward another—a stranger
singing to no one as I pass on the path, trees
offering their blossoms, a retarded child
who lifts his almond eyes and smiles.
Somehow they always find me, seem even
to be waiting, determined to keep me
from myself, from the thing that calls to me
as it must have once called to them—
this temptation to step off the edge
and fall weightless, away from the world.
This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting

Profile

cinaed: This fic was supposed to be short (Default)
cinaed

July 2025

S M T W T F S
  1234 5
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 15th, 2025 12:26 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios