Traci Brimhall and Brynn Saito
One day you will leave. I will try
to understand this. I've built you a wide road
spanning the ocean's waters. Beyond it
the world we came from, the one dreamers
enter at night, the one we all return to in new bodies.
One day I will say, Cross over me, and you will
begin to fear your own heart. I know you've clamored
for deliverance. I offer my back as a testament
that nothing lasts, nor was it meant to.
But what kind of freedom is stillness?
Maybe you should leap into the dark blue.
Perhaps you've been leaping all along.
In the middle of the bay there's a floating prison.
There are no more criminals there. No mercenaries.
No murderers. Go there and be filled by its emptiness.
Light lines the limestone walls. You are the last
to leave, and I am your safe passage. Every morning
the waters move under me, and I think of you,
still asleep, the shadows of the buildings pulling
away from you as the sun rises. Wake and remember.
Once you were young; you weren't afraid of anything.