Afterward, when I’ve grown soft
and lie back intact but somehow torn,
waiting for the stitching of sleep
to begin,
I let the wind into me
upon drifting off and it blows
across all my thoughts, my decisions
large and small, stirring them, letting them
fall back not quite where they were
but close enough, shifting them just so
I can tell they’ve been moved, letting me know
I’m alright, nothing’s so out of place
it can’t be set right, or is in fact right
as it is, yet I can tell they’ve moved
and thus reconsider them, not regretting
anything but seeing them again.
That’s the gift of
afterward: it lets you know
you’ve been moved but are safe,
and falling asleep is not a terror
as it is most nights, but a comfort.
Dark Matter 
August 6th, 2011 at 4:56 am
And so you should be. Must admit, many of my afterwards have been cold moments indeed, devoid of comfort 😉
August 5th, 2011 at 2:52 am
I love the naked transparency/vunerability. The gift of Afterward – a concept I’ll no doubt be toying with for the rest of the day.
August 5th, 2011 at 7:37 am
Thank you very much. I’m proud of this one.