I’ve gone to dark places; spaces where geometry twists itself until returning stretches impossibly longer than the going. Grief lives there, alongside Regret. Those two move quietly, catching us unguarded, or sleeping. They wrapped a smothering blanket around my mind. It’s skillfully made, of patchwork-diamond memories, stitched around every edge with fear. Delicate needlework, so precise, is only possible by familiar, serial hands. Mine.
Others have these skills too.
Chemistry, physiology, genetics,
Ecology, Economy, Complexity.
Each one’s travels are unique.
Everyone’s pain similar.
Something follows behind me, crawling this narrow, crumb-strewn trail home.
See anything yet?
Maybe tomorrow.
Let’s hope.
2 comments:
This is a good "Tiny Story". Hope you submit it.
I am so unobservant. I didn't notice this was a Tiny Story. (Maybe that's a good thing, like not noticing a poem rhymes on first reading.)
But it is a good one, yes.
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