Rearview

In the rearview I see fragments

Blurry fragments

Of wind and gusts and gray

Of sunshine, and sand and the slow heavy air of summer

I see passion and fire,

And iciness blowing through life like warm breath on a January morning

I see doors upon doors closing. Slamming.

In sequence down a long, endless hallway  

And I just let it happen

I watched each door close, I heard the sequential slam

And I felt the house shake each and every time

Jolting me awake for a fleeting second that I could never catch

In the rearview I see questions

They wait, just swaying in the breeze

I relive petty arguments and give them different endings

Writing furiously, pencil to paper, as if there is a clock to beat

Things to be undone

I relive thoughts and feelings I had

Combing through them with white gloves and a magnifying glass

Leaving them untouched but painstakingly examined

Was I wrong? Was he right?

I remember things he said

Words that cut me so quickly

I didn’t even know I was bleeding

In the rearview I see reasons        

On tiny pieces of paper, overflowing a mason jar

Reasons I loved, reasons I stayed

I pull them out one by one

Smoothing the creases and bent corners

And I read them, I feel them

Slip through my soul

I know them. They feel like home

I deliver them casually back into the jar        

Hoping they look untouched, like I hadn’t just been there

Hadn’t felt the weight of their burden on my weakened soul, my broken heart