lil something
a micro thing. not quite prose, not quite a poem. just vibes 💌
how long will this go on—this lingering on the stands; this talking to the moon and expecting a reply of companionship; this whispering into the pillow of a wish—like my mother taught me to do; this waking up, being awake, and already have failed; this charade that everything is exactly as it should be and that I trust in the divine order; this believing there is an order; this believing that life lends purpose to itself; this belief; this wanting; this wiping my palms on the back of my jeans and producing them in front of my own eyes, red and raw like a scared animal.
I read scarred instead of scare the first time reading, and it made up for a pleasant surprise.
It's great to have you here, Yasha, and I wish I could alleviate what even to you is ambiguous, probably just as the thing I hold inside me is, and stop so many things from unravelling exceedingly fast in this universe.
Thank you for sharing this Yasha. I love the theme of waiting at the start of this — I’ve really been contemplating periods or seasons of waiting and yearning for dreams we are chasing to come true and this piece really spoke to me.