The future is
a season I can’t imagine.
Ruth Awad, “The Chariot”
These words will form a pattern
taken from memory and borrowed
from belonging and unspoken blessings
whispered just behind your tongue
broken from grief and unanswered prayers.
Some of us will believe and some of us will know
the difference between honest forgiveness
and having eternal debt as talismans. Mirrored poetics
of suffering and ecstasy find a home here.
Take this interpretation with you
when you ask for help, a gesture of emotion.
Let’s pretend time will render joy
and devotion will save us beyond survival,
beyond stimulus and response.
Cache Culture 