07/12/2025
Time is an hourglass.
I arrive at a new home and turn the timer.
We step into the darkness—
tears, blood, breath—
and eventually a new baby arrives.
The sand empties and I move on,
leaving behind the milky softness,
letting it all reshape me.
Then I carry myself to the next home
to flip the hourglass once more.
Time is taken, and time is given.
I can never wrap my fingers around it.
It is neither measured nor fair;
it falls to and from,
a rhythm we cannot hold.
We can sing you in and we can sing you out,
yet we cannot keep you.
We wait and listen and wonder
when you will arrive,
what the signs mean,
why the kingfisher came.
The tulips bloom in bold red,
the blood begins to break through,
and we light the fire
because tonight may be the night.
The truth is, we would wait forever for you, darling.
If the sand was a dune
willing to be carried across the world,
we would move it grain by grain
just to hold you in our arms
for a single moment.
Time stitches us together.
Time brings you through me
and into life—
but only for a lifetime.
Long and short,
full like the hips that held you.
Time gives and takes,
again and again,
all of us.
2026-
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