what happens when
you get thrown
into nothing?
spread out arms
wide to no one?
people move on,
but not you. . .
expanse of heartache,
a cliff for a timeline,
free fall of lost things,
you by a thread.
so, walk to the edge!
but go down softly
with hope,
without breaking
your bones.
sink yourself
into the ground.
way up there
on that precipice
flowers can grow
on cliffs–
the Edge is not
the End.
you can’t command
the sun and rain
or bloom all by yourself.
darkness, silence.
longer, louder.
chaotic stillness.
feeling it all,
all feeling numb.
but I promise
you chose
the way down
that is hope.
so,
hold fast.
hold tight.
wait.
impossible hours,
tangled up days,
six feet below?
no.
this is you
growing
roots.
how glorious the sun feels,
and it was always there.
and so were you
but underground.
the work of roots
and waiting.
all along, life.
but even the brightest flower
can’t force sunshine
on its skin
before its blooming
season.
-S.V.F.



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