Æura Æra

In the chest it lands.

It’s time to start again.

Chronic, these clenched hands, demand:

once more, to open them.

Held, had, have, hold—

assume the position of the bestowed.

Orient thyself.

Beforehand-hands,

as it were.

Attention!

For at once it flows.

Like before, rings forth.

——

Life continues. 

time commanding each landing.

Where one once was,

one now is.

And to find yourself

the mist in the midst of all this

is to rest in the promise

of perpetual newness.

Ever off-guard.

The landing 

always precedes

the greeting.

——

Return, the reverb.

that singing silence 

with no ear lent it.

Sing-song penance, 

neck bent.

Periodic cries 

beg an answer, a why.

Pleas for deliverance.

Even still. Ever yet. 

Again and again:

Assume the position.

Abide by the melody inside.

And each time time’s spent:

Defend.

Defend these open hands.

—Δήλια 09.01.2025