Word from you aches
like an old injury,
a bone broken and
healed but never
again unassailable,
ever sensitive to the
plummeting pressure
your proximity announces,
the atmospheric disturbance
of your many promises,
breaking. Sheltered
by time and space, I
nonetheless roil at
your slightest approach.
An obstinate naivete
persists, trusting as a
newborn, set against
this durable apprehension,
how you taught me
to know better.
I travel the old bone’s
length, feel the callus
at the broken place;
concede the incompleteness
of healing. Rise again
from this familiar
trough. Surely as
sound trails light, your
thunder recedes. Already
my face turns toward
the steadfast sun.
Meditatio Ephemera 
👍👍
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Thanks for your appreciation!
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I love your writing. It always takes me to another place. I felt a little psychosomatic twinge in my shoulder while reading this time 🙂 Cousin, I hope your shoulder heals quickly!
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Thanks, Brad, for both the appreciation and good wishes! “Quickly” is unlikely in this instance, but I’ll gratefully accept “well,” in due time.
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We never do fully recover from injury, physical or mental, though in some ways become stronger for it. Or maybe just smarter, to not go there again. -Russ
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I’ll take “smarter.” 🙂
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