this moment, this day, these times

everyone is shouting

angry words, angry voices, angry indignation

all in righteous tones, each louder in succession

as if sheer volume carries moral weight

some few speak softly or not at all

occupied with ordinary tasks

but with attention nonetheless

fearing to find what quietness means

following such noise

if memory is what binds us here

makes real the ghosts that stalk the land

lay waste to the dreams of the living

tear at what hopes the future might hold

then I want to be forgotten

let the small good I do remain

kindness as intentional scree

shards of broken love for those better equipped

words dropped on back streets and banked trails

to be found if someone has need

but not me, never me

when I go, I would be gone

do not tie me here with false tether

and when they laugh as they throw me

into what they consider void,

they cannot hear that I am also laughing

this gap, this pause, this seemingly eternal liminal space

has always been my refuge

so I do not fall when tossed off an edge, I fly

because I know what they cannot yet

there is no threat here, no danger they can offer

what they see is their own face staring back

when I soar, they also have wings