holding in my palms
a teardrop containing every tear I have ever cried
laughter containing every laugh
always with me that silent scream from birth
my palms are old and wizened
they will be 80 in a few weeks
it is the weight of those palms
transforming my life into an echo
one I can trace from the Big Bang…
a most perfect wabi
my life for decades caught up in the indescribable lightness of being dancing with camellias in the rain yes always bound by the darkness but one step ahead now must face that truck hurling towards me…
Alone and in the dark
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