Your laugh invades my fretful waking-sleep,
a cacophony I’ve navigated across our oceans,
and the same hands that soothed my wounds,
have skinned me for the cauldron these years.

Between the synchrony of our heartbeats
we have built cathedrals of our grievances,
worshipping at altars and confessed the
catalogue of our sins, while praising still.

Love calcified in the corners of this house
we’ve built together where our younger selves
used to play, but now we are dismayed by
the years and the returns that touch us still.

This weathered skin remembers every storm
we’ve navigated through, and now how strange
to find salvation in the very storms that might
have sunk us, yet we made it to the shore.

 

20/4/2025