Who was watching

Time slips and the air shifts,

bridge the gaps, the abyss

between what you know

and whatever you feel.

 

Trust, like the smell of this flower,

this one,

not memory

not belief

 

Trust, like how you feel

when your eyes close to sleep

at last,

when your teachers come,

disguised as they will

in your conclusions,

 

outside of time

and your eyes finally open.

 

You were made facing your own heart

first.

Megan Jones