We came from nothing, you know,
from sand and mineral, from water and air,
from the dying stars we grieved
long before time ever was.
I think I’m still in mourning.
My body has always sensed the loss.
I like to wrap my arms around your ribs and your spine,
the way I’d wrap them around the giant oak tree
when I was four, when I still remembered,
when I still wept for my home in the stars.
We came from something, you know,
from sand and mineral, from water and air,
from oak tree backbones creating a spark,
but not from nothing.
And toward one another.