LaMeta

I stood singing two songs as one. Between do and don’t.

Knowing the lyrics but unable to remember how I learned them. It felt like a part of history someone destroyed but revivified through memory. Somehow like an echo bouncing between two mountains, infinitely, leaving no room for words unsaid. Thunder roared through tilled plains, dropping uncertainty in between its crevices. Whispering to the earth what could not be heard….

…or maybe shouldn’t be heard.

I prayed with a seed in hand, yellow and small enough to fit in the slits of my palm,  wondering how long those dry landscapes would leave me thirsting. As I looked at the ground I felt a shadow taking mine. Water was coming. My hand opened, let go of the seed, and headed for shelter in a treeless terrain.