Back and Forth

I hope this finds you well back there, treading through those days that span on like a field with a tomorrow that never arrives. The promise of it tricks to the back of your throat like dust.

I hope this finds you well when the beating pulse threatens to hammer out of your chest and you believe nothing really matters more than leaving this moment.

I hope this finds you well and that you can stretch your hand through the branches, grazed and sore and with dirt beneath your nails to reach for mine and that you know I want you to hold on real tight.

I hope this finds you well as I hold the leaves back for you to climb through and then I hug you and pat your hair, parting it to one side. I hope you don't mind the swoosh of your stomach as you twist through the edge of time, leaving behind the crusts you are for breakfast and bringing your every fear to the here and now I hope you know that this discomfort is good.

I hope this finds you well when you sit next to me and we talk and the glass in your throat cracks and you spit it out piece by piece. I hope we can bury the pieces with a prayer and that this is where they stay.

I hope this finds you well when you say how hard it is and I don't have much of a reply, but you know I'm glad you're talking. I can feel your words rise and sink and with each syllable spoken there is one less stone to hold.

I hope this finds you well when it's time to say our goodbyes again. I promise I'll wait right here for you. Your seat will stay warm. Take a big gulp of this morning air and plunge in, immerse entirely and swim through it all.

I hope this finds you well when someday soon you arrive back and we laugh like old friends who've seen it all before. There'll be sand sticking to your toes and we'll be so happy you made it. You'll look around and see the tree glistening with green and your hands coated in dirt and You'll know it was worth it to have gone back and fought to plant every single one.