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In the passage of time she was myself and I was her own
Riding our bicycles—probably falling down at the same
time
She’s on the other side of the wall and I never see her
I know her face, I know her mind and I know them well
I wish I knew your voice, she said
I said, You already do.
I feel like I’m older than them, you know.
I answered, Me too.
She said that she wanted me to visit her hole in the wall,
but I found no space
There was a cruel wind and the sound of bells as the angels
took their wings,
I pressed my hand to the wall and solitude made my mind
go deaf
But I still hold her thoughts in my hand
I give her my sentences, she ends them and sends them to
me with a verse.
There is no window to see her through, though it is not
necessary
I’m in need of the luxury
Our voices are all that we have and they keep us from the
cold—
As sisters should do
I hear her sound; it is my own just as my mind is hers.
This wall of separation, its name is Novice, I think
And we’re here because we passed him by so long ago. |