A Long Time

Lost in the essence of the debris of past explosions are a handful of people unwilling to let go. She is new. She has been for a long time now. They shove thorns on her finger and tell her it is a band. They’re married to remnants of a carcass. The doubt died. There is nothing absolute about time. Time is a human concept. They’ve been divorced from humanity. Most feel nothing. Your tears equivalent to rainwater or urine. Just moisture. Stretch out your hand. Understand her pressure and the poison your presumptions plant in otherwise healthy soil. She is new. You’re holding on to situations born from trauma that was convenient to ignore. You’re peeling scabs looking for blood but she exists within what you see. She operates above you at times, hovering over hope and grabbing pieces of promise. It’s time…

By: Shaun Liriano

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