completely cracked open. desperate fragility one moment, then calm acceptance and patience, then the open wound of my tender heart as the world spins around and around. planes explode, bombs fly, aren't the verbs backwards? my fingers require minute instructions for functioning in any coordinated way and whole armies are coordinated by code. drones target and officials pose and I can only pray that there is no malignancy, that I don't have to start counting down the sunsets, the evenings I have left to bathe in cicada song, the drips from the hummingbird feeder and the whir of wings, the little green lizards that come to lap with darting tongues on the leaves left sticky with sweet water... I don't want to have to count the fireflies I'll see, the deer I'll greet on my evening walks, the raindrops on my skin, the comforts of morning tea, or the times I'll say I love you.
