And this was all so clear to me today in the wake of last night. You know, lo que pasó, pasó. And the poem came anyway.
A Promise
Air.
Vital, life-giving, refreshing.
Insubstantial, weightless.
Whisper it again,
because it'll mean everything and
nothing.
Light as the air
I displace.
Heavy as the ache in this heart.
Say it again.
Air.
Nothing to back it up
besides my trust.
Nothing to give it substance
besides your action.
Say it again.
It's nothing but
Air.
Last day of SOL schedules tomorrow, thank God! These two hour blocks are killer, but it seems like I've just about made it.
In other news, my legs feel like jelly today. I'm crazy sore from my run. Even my abs hurt. Signs of a good workout and an engaged core, I'm sure, but that doesn't keep me from avoiding heels higher than an inch and complaining a bit. Haha.
2 comments:
If you take the time to think about it... some people haven't left recently for more than a couple of hours at a time. Ultimately, they've been keeping that same promise for years. The only time they couldnt keep it- is when you shut them out. They kept trying to be there, though. For years they kept trying. Think about that.
And maybe the reason you're equating this to air, is that you have Asthma. You have a hard time just breathing it in- a hard time accepting even air sometimes.
And maybe, if you take the time to think about it, you'll see it's not about any one person or any one promise. It's about words being one thing and actions another.
No accusations of broken promises, or incongruent action, just that in and of themselves, promises aren't much to go on. They require some action.
No lo tomes tan a pecho.
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