A promise.

I promise you.

I PROMISE.


I shall see you again.

Not in “another life”.

Not in a non-sensical way.

We shall meet and embrace,
and hug slightly too hard -
so that when we depart
there is still that feeling of closeness,
through our battered bones
and salted faces.


I promise you.

I PROMISE.


That in art,
and poetry,
and music,
and thought,
that we all are raised beyond what we ought.


I promise you.

I PROMISE.


That I will always tell the truth,
as I always have.

I am broken.
I am sad.

But I am not dead.

Because of your hands.