In spite of knowing nothing holds,
still I wish at certain times to be held.
My mother ages twenty years in
advance of me, and yet, she never
says “time is running out child,”
enjoy the moonlight while it lasts,
and yet without her saying it,
I feel it in my bones.
I sense the end drawing near in my grandmother,
whose dementia convinces her she is a child again,
as she hears her mother telling her to hurry in before dark.
I see holographic disintegration
and suggest to my mother, perhaps we
are mere light particles,
but what really matters is invisible,
at this she laughs, because it
seems unbelievable & inconceivable
to her, and yet what if that’s all we are?
What if we are anti-matter appearing as matter?
“The greatest physicists are already on to this,”
I tell her, they know we don’t really exist,
that we are already long gone, that our lives
are spinning in a hadron, that we are actually diamonds.
She sighs and rolls her eyes, and I think,
Well, if you never wanted to be enlightened,
you shouldn’t have named me Crystal.
Heavy, heavy..it’s all so heavy, so weighed down
in the pocket like stones, else is it so light,
that it cannot even contain itself?
People get angry when I laugh
at things they take so serious, and yet,
life can be so hilarious, we are
all riding in cars that are bound to crash,
but what if there are no cars at all?
Perhaps there are only motion detectors,
light reflectors to warn us that our lives
are getting too close, that they are at risk
of colliding, and this intercourse,
this intertwined, interwoven path
could be the death of our freedom,
or perhaps I’m simply getting older,
and that dreamy-eyed doe has
appeared in the headlights too suddenly
for me to make a clean break.
All the wild in me shape-shifts
beyond the black tarmac glare,
and when I open my eyes,
nothing is there.