It is strange how one person’s words
can affect another.
Words break down the crust and dirt
caked on and gathered in layers
from the dusty rumble of the day.
A system of forms and lines
so delicately aligned
that water springs from eyes
as glimmering pearls of emotion.
Yet again, you failed to outwit
the inevitable energy of the universe
propelling you to feel heartbreak, sunrise,
and the weight of stars,
bearing down on you.
Weight has caught up to you again tonight
and for the thousandth time you fail
to outwit she and her cohorts known
as innocence and vulnerability.
They live in the back of your head space
as two blue synapses
but you’re practiced at silencing them.
The weight of stars can only be invoked
with fire or cool water on familiar lips,
spoken in tongues,
or deposited carefully on the page
as conviction, voice,
giving you purpose and light
that you can carry with you to the next day
with that other voice carried
as a single red blood cell
in your veins.