Who Knows Where This is Going?

Will you walk backwards down the sidewalk with me?

I ruminated on this rumor,
—We can never trust in the future but we can find peace within ourselves.
Peace so blind that it sees freedom.

So, together,
Can we release forward strides and plans well-devised?
Implementing laughter as our standard protocol
for every trip
and every fall.
Hold my hand and claim each toe-heel step as our conquered cement land.
Let us trust each other’s breaths
as our guide into life’s depths.
Holy matrimony as our steps divinely sweep into synchronicity.
Surely, it is simply you and I who understand-
The chance of a lifetime
To fall into place with another being’s pace.
Our fingers lock – interlaced.

Another moment arrives
and greets my freedom from want with
the taunt of desires.
My light of peace sputters, wanes, and dies.
I embark: “Why can’t I run towards the future?”
Quick release of your fasted grip-
Determined to watch where we are going.
Instead of trusting the blind steps into the unknown,
I insist on turning around.
“I’ll guide us forward!”
Head first, ego beating out of my skull, I nudge you-
“Forward, keep up!”

Wait…Keep up!
We land into the wall.

We have only sailed one block before the excuses are lit
and have set fire to our previous round of negotiations.
Why do you balk at my plea to follow the rules?
I swear my mother taught me never to swear.
Bite your tongue, sweetheart.
Swallow your words and choke on the meaning until it regurgitates into the atmosphere.

You are always never clever.
And I am severely enabled.

My heart believes in tales of folklore attached to a body called, “The One.”
And so,
I stuffed my relationship seeds into denim pockets while spring eased past.
My fingernails never bit the top layer of garden earth
and the harvest of us
shriveled in the light of fiction.
No stake in the ground to identify you as my own.
Instead, I diligently practiced the art of running away from home.
An encounter with a door sent me scurrying out through the window.

He is one but never a determiner.
He is there but never here in my heart.
He is unaware while seemingly prepared.
He is he- simply.
And I am me- complicated.


Published by Anna Buck

"everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

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