We Are Riders

bus

We are riders

on the back of time, on a crowded bus, full of babies

and strangers

bearing the faces of people

who we should have loved

and should have loved us in return.

 

Over years a nameless driver

pushed the brakes to discharge, to pour out

to unload until, like this morning

we find ourselves riding again, alone together

as once we did.

 

This time, we ride with memories bursting

with questions answered, with prophecies fulfilled.

Knowing leaves a journey simple

and makes the going difficult to bear.

 

For now we know what we never could have

but might have guessed at anyway.

That love alone renders our passage sufferable, in pain…

or light as heated air when there is joy;

silent and still as well, when the plains are flat, and dry, and long.

 

Home now.

The refrigerator hums, we no longer hear it.

Like voices in our heads, droning.

Crowds of words, proffered in anger and in solace

play in our minds as music

while we yet ride.

 

 

 

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