how do we live in a world that expects constant forgetting? erasure of the past that built us on the road to becoming something different.
how do we stand when we are always, always giving away our legs in the name of moving on? forgetting so that we might know what it means to love more purely?
how can I love at all without remembering the nights you held me? without that warm spring of knowing that has never stopped bubbling since the sun rose the next morning.
that night the fire burned too hot and we sat too close, reckless, grieving.
on the way down the mountain I closed my eyes and squeezed your hand and prayed without conviction for the darkness surrounding us to take me, just to stop the hurt, stop the wanting.
I never had the guts to invoke, just to whisper, fearing my own power, fearing the cost.
without changing the fabric of my grief you invited me in, wrapped yourself around me, waited for the storm to pass. the lonely parts of my heart will never stop clinging to the way that felt.
even as you recede in memory, become a stranger, a ghost, I will never forget the way you lent me your legs and helped me to stand, wobbly and new, unsure, disbelieving.