To Make it Back

To be human,

to dream,

then curse,

in fierce frustration,

as it crumbles.

 

To listen,

then judge,

the pieces fitting

just barely,

making sense of it,

then losing the way.

 

To scream,

then laugh,

at all the times,

there was nothing

left,

but breath,

and flushed glowing faces.

 

To make it back

from the lowlands,

standing upright

when possible,

relying on each other,

and the dreams,

still alive,

breathing toward some light,

still visible,

in the distance out there,

but not so far away,

anymore.

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