The sailor is a hacker of these oars hammering the waves and shores for the oracle

Lately you've been dodging bullet holes

Fleeing the scene of tire marks

I praise my bruises for a new place to start

Where they can't see the past that tore out all the kind and fragile parts

There is paper and wood I am storing

Axes, boots, and a steady hand for the harshness of darkness & winter

Be prepared, your maker would carry more kindness if only you were a man

It can wire cut fences, mend blind faith and sickness, but it never keeps up with those delicates, who claimed the arrows and carried the wings

My vulnerability makes it hard to breathe

On this journey did I forget anything 

 

 

The grief thief and the police

 

30 years later somewhere else today is just any other normal day for you, me and us. In these photos we are at the beginning of our lives. 

I think the words I miss or we miss you are inadequate, and it feels anxious to know what to say after 30 years, but I could never not acknowledge this day.