May 31 • 1M

si je la revois

a poem

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in morning rainbows, she is memory
like a piccolo fluttering high and tenuous
but ever hopeful. 

i have always kept
hope, as pandora did, sealed
within a fragile pithos,
praying that i would
never let it
drop.

but my fingers have held true
by some unknowable grace
i have not shattered
the ancient clay, nor ripped
the fraying lace tying
our wrists together.

now i approach,
humble as radish roots,
smiling like a supernova
finally set free