Life won’t record — we do

We manage the timing before changing and the change itself
we catch the stillness before the break and run straight into what follows
we keep the half-second when a decision sparks
the courage of someone returning to themselves
the weight and heat of not knowing yet

​

Birds and planes tilt toward the sun as if they could ask it something
A woman drinks water in the light the glass cold the swallow unstoppable
Waves of feeling hit without warning pull back leave salt on the mind
Mountains loop through memory never the same shape twice
A smile flashes from the corner table of a café
An old woman walks steady toward the shop
A child screams joy into the schoolyard air until the air is theirs

And us
adults
still becoming

​

These are lives in collision
moments crossing fast enough to change their shape
stories that move like weather and stain like ink

Read with both hands
touch the screen then your own skin then the ground
the soil is watching you back
stay and it might pull you in
move and it might move with you