By Corynne Ryan (She/Her)

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Image by Engin Akyurt

By Corynne Ryan

I woke to clouds
of thick grey matter
and found comfort
in their heavy grasp.
A dear friend said death
is life’s only promise,
but I’m afraid I disagree.

The sun will rise
and the waves will crash
and the moon will
take its place
among twinkling stars.

People will leave;
your heart will follow
their shrinking backs
until, piece by piece,
nothing remains.

Nature is constant,
and unflinching,
unblinkingly true,
unlike people,
who would leave at the
drop of a shoe.