Advisory Journal: Reflecting on One Year

It's hard to believe, we said.
How the days have run 
away from us as
in flames extinguishing
one by one down a path
as endless as it is finite, 
all the while waking, getting
half-way dressed, minding
the carpeted steps on our
house-bound routes. 

I remember it as if it were today,
they said. One year buried
within the bitter air of home,
honeyed with our distraction,
siblings, curl of soft pets,
rent by the nameless lull behind
unsleeping eyes, the relentless
light from screens that afford us
everything but our peace --

I want to be with someone,
I want to be someone, some felt,
calling to say they have considered
undoing their life at some point
at the age of twelve, and how
no one else will notice because
the world has become a vacuum
of attention in the way we
vacate our eyes and our skin,
feet feeling no earth.

We want to go back, everyone wrote,
to end this dream of us circling
through irreparable motions
and dissolving into the panels
of black boxes, to be begged
to come up to the surface again
by a familiar voice with no presence,
while the great wave of our grief
breaks over us, tumbling us into the sun.