We are ghost and shadow
steeped in skin
too hot to drink
yet cold to the touch.
I read a blog called the 27 powers.
I don’t know what the 27 powers are.
I have 27 powers.
I can see too much.
But I can’t see the whole story.
Just that you are bruised.
A shadow of your former self.
Like me. I step out on the ledge and forget how I don’t know how to go on. Because the breeze here clarifies and connects me to the bird who thinks the wind is her friend.
I have 27 powers and I don’t know which ones are for good and which ones leave me too open for my own good.
I keep thinking how hard I worked to get here. How many powers I left behind. The power to know what your answer was when I don’t even know what my answer is.
That there is no answer.
There’s only my girl who texts me and asks if she can skip play practice. How I tell her she made a commitment and then she asks, please.
This is the only answer I know. Yes, you can come home. And I’ll love you no matter what shape you are in.
The only power I have is how much I love you, how I hope everyone has someone to love like that. How it breaks me open until I know the birds use the wind to fly and we use each other until sometimes we are all worn out. And then we are only for those who break us wide open, the ones we can’t walk away from, our family of love.
I have 27 powers and I left them all behind for you and me so we could begin again with not one answer between us, only this love that is bigger than everything we ever got wrong.
Together we are always right. Even when we’re wrong, we can just wait all of our errors out. Put the tea kettle on, we’ve got all night.