Poetry for Strangers: Birth

traveler chronicles: first journey

I’m dead in your world
you can’t bring me back
that’s one of the rules
she said

I met one of the infinite versions of my sister
this one still alive
still painfully bright like a blade catching the sun
her face was cloaked in dawn on the icy beach
where we spent childhood christmases

you can’t bring anything back she said
you can only visit

snow and skreaky starlight widened over the pines
the birth of morning in this otherworld washed the
sea with coruscating light like a nova

For more, visit Poetry for Strangers: Birth

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