Everything is shared.
The lump in the throat
The bruise on your crushed face
The echo in your belly
The lines of prophecy on your
hands
Everything is shared.
The simmering question that drove
you into this alley
The doubt that you will ever be
known
The childhood knowledge that you
could run on air, through treetops
Tender things your father never
said
Everything is shared.
Days sinking into white hot sand
Steel-spined walls keeping you
locked in step
Your endless loss of blood and
breath
Each undisclosed transfusion that
brings you back from the edge
Everything is shared.
Afternoon, midnight,
fracture-just-before-dawn fears that paralyze
Nameless desire that sinks you to
the bottom of a well that draws fire from deep below
The framework of sorrow that
breaks your bones one by one, daring you to want anything again
Other dangerous abstractions like
hope
Everything is shared.
The fibers of your food, your
absent shelter
Strange rain that keeps you
alive long after you’ve quit caring
Light that shows you a
picture of your secret heart spread across magazine pages
The static, the spaces, invisible
frequencies surrounding your odd voice with compassion
Everything is shared.
Words that break open a cell, a
rock, a tinderbox full of flint and fire
Keys to the codes that can’t be
cracked in a single language
Microscopic movements
collaborating in a long play of intricate foreshadowing
The building blocks of an
apocalypse, of resurrection that would astound you
Everything is shared.
Your heart of ashes and feathers;
part coal, part glint of wondrous stone
Your heart a planet; moving
waters, hovering spirit, unrelenting green
Your heart the quark and the
atom; your heart dark matter
Your heart breaking atmosphere;
your heart a traveler
Everything is shared.
Everything is shared.
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