Remember, the ashes of history still pulse – Plato,
and τὰ πάντα ῥεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει.Tà pánta rheî
kaì oudèn ménei. Meaning everything flows,
nothing is frozen. Remember, when the world
withers into shaky, misted shadows, we are still here.
Nectar still quenches the hazy beginning, the solemn
end. Mama’s crescent outline still gleams heavy and soft
and slow, guides child to womb. We must be
brave/we must be brave/we must be
brave ripples smooth and afraid
from her mouth, a silken mantra. Our faces still undress like peeled
clementine at the kitchen table, unraveling from the comfort
of steamed idlis piled high. Remember, loneliness is only
a flexing touch, the act of feeling the weight of the universe
flush under a single raw palm, trembling. We are not alone.
Night watches silently, skates holy fingers through the earth
for reprieve. She knows fear and ignorance always tastes
better in the dark. Remember, in the nearby grocery
store, everyone is paralyzed. By the register, apologies uncover
themselves faster than truths. We are all just hands lifted
from wavering moments, pulled in by gravity, reaching
for steady heartbeats that feel impossibly distant. It’s a bitter
Monday night. Our heartstrings are pulled taut against
the unknown, against zoom windows and breaking news.
The streetlights are cold and drained and alone. Time cloaks
our bodies with something fierce and we can’t stop counting
our bones to make sure they’re still there. But remember,
see the beauty in everything. Watch the sunflowers turn
away from their own shadows, basking in the hardened sunlight.
Remember, prayer requires only a throat and intention.
Remember, we are more together than ever before, crying stars
shifting light across our aching bodies, tumbling
in the dark. Remember, we will be okay. Now, we spoon
comfort from the universe into our lungs like a second
dawn, fluxing with color. Soon, we will be reborn,
strength blossoming, flush
with a new understanding of our world.