Trust, trust in things instead
Trust, trust in the words of the dead
The endless knocking on wood
on hearts, on concrete for truth
Trust in the empty bed,
while it remains yours alone
while it hungers for no one else
while it harbors no other bones
and trust in bones
shaking at the sight of bones bare
reflecting daylight without a light of its own
Trust in the day and the night
their swift arrival and flight
They are there and there they are,
for your spending, for your waiting, for you
Trust in breaths
soft, loud, prolonged or quick
perpetual, so far and for now- breaths
of smoke or salty air or dusty wind
and trust the wind
its decisive turns, impulsive bursts
Trust its anger and its speed and its hate
and its love for your skin and your hair
Trust in the horizon
In its gently subtle curve, in its elusive end
In the deep blue of its oceans, the secrets
beneath them like the secrets in you
and trust in you too
as there is no other you
like you are- now. Trust the now.
Trust the flux of time and youth and happiness
the knowledge of things that have yet to happen
and have happened and will not happen any more
but still with you and unborn or undead
shushed or ever noisy noisy noisy
telling you,
yes
yes
yes
yes
yes
yes
yes
you are still alive.
***
