In the beginning--
once upon a time--
in a land--
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive--
I wanted to write a poem
about endings ending with beginnings that begin at the end
because it's all - cyclical? - yes, that's the word
I'm looking for
Even when I plumb the scaly depths of emotion
and scale the harrowing heights
It's words that are my oxygen, my cantine, my foothold,
Spelling into raw skin and tear ducts the sum total of my fear, my love, pain.
I offer them to you, all of it. What I can.
Everything ends and begins and the markers of time, those signifiers, are blurred
so much more often than childhood would have
Forth, and back, and back again. Forward.
All was well, in the beginning.