A Poem
Trees are hollow.
I noticed that when I went to the park today.
They’re just tall, winding tubes, parting and branching,
around a petrified core.
Are we hollow as well?
Our feelings and thoughts,
our touching and being touched:
Aren’t they just a thin film of life,
barely skin-deep?
And the slumbering hopes and ideals underneath,
all our forgotten convictions and fears:
Aren’t they just layer upon layer of who we once were?
light and dry now
deserted
I wonder how it would be to venture down.
if it would feel like returning to somewhere familiar
welcoming still of who I’ve become
or…
Sometimes neither WhatsApp, Facebook, or Signal will do — but an old fashioned and simple solution just might!
I know what you’re thinking: “Why would you even do that? It’s over, they’ve moved on. So don’t be selfish.” But the situation I ran into today wasn’t that trivial, I promise! Not to say that keeping yourself from bothering ex-lovers can’t be challenging — especially when moving on turns into a long-term project on your side. But the reason I reached out to one of mine today had nothing to do with longing or loneliness. Did you raise an eyebrow at that just now? I probably would, if I were you. …
