You believed in me
past my ability.
I didn’t have it.
I know that now.
Once I begged for yes.
You said yes.
I rose.
Once I begged for no.
You said no.
I stayed down.
We made three.
They carry us both.
You were ground.
I was light.
This morning a dream:
You at a door.
I couldn’t speak.
You couldn’t hear.
Seven years.
No tears.
No words.
Only fingers.
I look back.
It was good.
That’s the sadness—
not today,
but knowing
what good was.
I visit.
I love you.


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