Poem: “Here, This Air”

“Here, This Air”

Today my hands hold a memory.

Cupped inside is nostalgia and pain. I caress them both from one hand to another.

This love is alive, as real as the hands that hold it.

This pain is deep proof that once I held your loved head in my hands.

They were blind hands that did not know what they were holding.

I come to you now with never-empty hands.

Here, this air, this memory, will help you live.

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