It's quiet now except for soft whirring house noises. A quarter to midnight and everyone's abed but me, too full of whispers to sleep. The moon is coming out of the eclipse shadow. Dark red. Now silver. I am not sad for the moon. I am not sad that I can't sleep and won't be able to for a long time. The only thing that makes me sad tonight is that in this place I live we all once built little armies inside ourselves. We prepared to win against each other any way we knew how. And just in case we got defeated we put up soundproof places there too, to sleep in, to hush and tuck ourselves in. To hide: the only way to keep from loving too much. And so we are each defeated, whether we know it or not.
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When it rains in the dark, I hold my pillows close and listen to solace. There has been so much time for this, to be quiet to lay still to stroke your hair.
How come you cannot let him go?
Our hearts are inexplicable and will always be.
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Falling comes. If there is no place at home to fall, it will always be away, in far distant places.
Farther than we know.
Falling comes.
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