Stories Unheard

Summer swelters into existence, I go out to the river early but already it beats the breath out of me, already it drags me across sticky, melted asphalt. I am grateful for the early hour, for how my thoughts have yet to catch up with my open eyes, I can run in peace, in silence. Later, on a screen, he admits that he is disappointed with his life and that it seems to be going nowhere, and I can't wrap my head around it, when everything looks like a success from the outside. I wonder if we all feel like  frauds and then what the point is. The city moves on to a second phase of reopening, and it seems impossible to think we were once completely locked down, tethered to our choices.

A story calls to me from across the great expanse of the country. I've been hearing it for years, and trying my best not to listen. A star trail spreads, a deep humming inside my chest claims it knows best but it is no use until I'm ready. When you are set to line up that which you actually want with that which you are going to do, then we can talk about fireworks and peace.

I want for you a life of fireworks and peace.

I'm sorry it's taking so long to get there.