nothing can stand between
our persistent past
and our fading future
climbing above the clouds
for the first time we admire
our own names
the artifacts we reach for
when we need to make sense
grabbing at low hanging fruit
and holding on
until our arms glisten with juice
we find ourselves alone tumbling
like the sky back to our beginning
flawed and unable unwilling
to repair the years of damage
we want we want we want
what is essential a map
an infallible compass a wild vision
of our own magic imperfect
we are broken vessels
stronger for being shattered and
painstakingly mended once more
© 2020, by Hannah Six
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