explosions in the sky filling
the room with the
black marshmallow ceiling
the start of class with, “become more childlike,”
mat is the safe place, and
maybe i am the only one who sits in the dark at the end
holding back the tears
watching the silhouettes of everyone breathing
 r. saying that
we must believe there is a plan,
that we are exactly where we need to be,
that we should be nowhere else,
that when we believe
that everything is finished
that will be
the beginning.

and all i can think of
is the song title,
“your hand in mine.”

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