the world is breaking and i am not protected.
these things i projected for myself are beyond my grasp, and
from first to last i bring a sadness that
breaks in my fragile hands.

we are all in an earthquake state, shaken and
the rattling of the airwaves, breaking and
broken, waves of impenetrable shock.

i walk past all this:
the mountains cut in half
the tunnels by the reservoir that
collapsed onto their builders
the waves and forms of this ocean of
disintegration and

there. something metallic is flying,
with wings that are repairing,
shining in open fields of mournfulness and
other elected thoughts. or feelings.

we are transitory workers, brought in
to hurt and destroy what we love, brought in
to alter the landscape of

emotional irrigation, the channels of our souls.
run through the filter. it will still be you. us. i.

there. it’s not about what one can’t reach.
it’s not about what’s fragile or killed.
it is about what is left.

i am still here.
stronger than i think or know.