Up To My Neck

They’re everywhere: 

Stories of growing up and getting old 

And time slipping through a child’s fingers 

Like sand at the beaches of your memories. 

In the news: 

Every day is a new headline 

Emblazoned onto our eyes 

To bear testament to our fluid world. 

The sand gathers around my ankles: 

Billowing in the wind and shaking the fruit trees 

As I wade through it, 

Trying to find where I came from. 

The streetlights flick on:

One, two, three at first, then all at once

Illuminating a path through the darkness 

I didn’t realize had arrived.

And so it goes:

Hauling my body through the piles of stories

And dragging my limbs through the fields of sand

Until I’m buried, and only then do I have no choice but to continue.