there are things I notice that take me by surprise:
when did we all change this much?
these children - now nearly adults - that I grew up with,
they look as tired as I feel,
eyes shadowed with little half moons,
they're so tired, from lack of sleep, yes, but also of life,
of the monotony of our existence.
so we all sit up at night, trying to make these hours -
the ones after all the work is done, after we've reached our limits -
where we have no obligations, count, for something.
we're invisible, in the eyes of the world,
sitting cross legged, wrapped in blankets,
releasing our inhibitions, cracking the facade we keep up every day,
setting flame to the expectations,
and just breathing, letting go.
and we write, or we scroll through our "for you" pages,
or we simply think,
go over our days in our heads.
and this is freedom.
it adds to the burden under our eyes, yes, but
it lifts the burden in our hearts -
just a little.
I'm not saying it vanishes, that would be naive of me,
but we're able to acknowledge it for a little bit, at least,
with the freedom to break down,
to grieve over the children we once were.