pendulum

and when it stops swinging

i discovered a reliable companion in the weeping willow by the pond - back then. when i so desperately crave connection, i still look for the emerald headed ducks that kept me company. they lift me into a thistle sky by the shoulders of my sweater, lingering on a beam bridge above the sun. a saturated canary glow on my collarbone is just enough to carry me through the night. could the waterfowl carry me all the way to heaven?

but the earth swallows.

the air fills.

isn’t it simple how silkworms hatch and suddenly it’s spring. when did it all become so intricate…or was it this way all along? i believe our evergreen nostalgia for childhood stems from missing its blissful ignorance. if only simplicity were that simple, time would have surely halted when the pendulum stopped swinging. i would have had an eternity to get to know her. now all i have are dreams and my own name. i have the tree that cradles me like my mother.

my name means hope, and I have always wondered how my parents knew I would need the constant reminder.