Freewrite: The Story of We

We wander through the streets of this nothing town and take up residence in broken houses, broken hearts. 

We unwrap furniture as if it were dead bodies, dust settling on our thin wrists and tangled hair. 

We cook food on ancient stoves and pretend the war is over. 

We love deeply on the dirty rugs and cover ourselves with clothes that are wilted and holed. It is not like us to be so daring. But nobody cares (we don't) now that the other side has won. 

We tumble outside into the dying light of spring and throw ourselves into the sparse sheaves of grass emerging from cold earth. The flowers aren’t yet here but it doesn’t matter to us. There are branches overhead and worms underneath to keep us company. 

We bundle in blankets and read to one another under the covers of darkness and light.  

We wriggle and squirm and fight off the loneliness and can’t imagine life before/after/with one another.  

We can’t figure it all out, all these happenings and all this tragedy, but we are not built for such things. 

We can just be here right now and take in the wonder and pain. 

We rip each other to shreds and build one another up to be naked and free. 

We are here for this purpose and I cannot tell you otherwise. I don’t want to lie. 

We won’t be OK but in this moment we are alive.