Losing Her Is Finding This

glowing at the end of a limb
many limbs
little views of what we are:
sunsets that say you belong to something bigger
the way she looks at you after all these years
someone asking for directions
the wind in the trees

voices, ceaseless
the edge of insanity is not so far off
from times of peace
the question "where do i fit?" is there
our purpose
the one that shines truest and makes us whole
is there crashing like a wave
swallowed up in the day to day

simple acts of kindness
collected and returned to their source:
your heart
our tender wholeness
the love that wins the gold medal
and scrapes across the finish line dead last

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