Shards of Sand

Full Broken

she chokes on the words
so strong so real too close
to home where all their hearts are
and without words
when the silent humming is done
they press together
each with her own thoughts
hers being knowing the words
she had practiced earlier hadn't she
and knowing the other words
He's able He's able He will never--
failure was on the other side
she fears so many factors inside
to solve for x and cancel out variables
would be, will be, suicide.

group by grade
they scramble and she finds
herself only with two others and one
is it only us?
that's the question isn't it
she thinks silently and
says nothing in response.

she's torn
unsure what they want
unsure why they didn't
keep it in their pocket like they
were told to earlier while she
was on the bleachers sweeping
trash as if clearing her life
and unsure why she still has
that unopened red wrapper
tucked in her own pocket.

head in hands
on the sidelines with her,
the only one who she'd want there,
of course they come over
and she doesn't really listen
to what they have to say
she's occupied watching the other
in the circle, the president,
and dreading his doomed election.

out of nowhere
she's swept hard by doubling pain
realizing that she will miss it
doubting she can do it
wishing that every snapshot of
nostalgia would break to pieces.

frozen in the hallway
waiting for five minutes to pass
they talk and she listens
because they have some good
to say more or less and she
thinks it's best that the
painfully ironic truth of the flip side
will make it easier after all.

suddenly
two round the corner and
she's slammed hard with those
memories from that era as well as
stairwell flashbacks and all
the fire and rain coursing through
her veins from that night returns
but it's more real it seems
because this time she's the one
sitting below the guillotine.

a flurry of blurred words.

they hurry away. she stands and the floor seems to slip from under her.

one last time under the lights,
beside the seats, against the wall,
near the water, across from the night,
outside the others, and in that hall.

an exchange of extraction
even then, it feels like a one-way street
she can't help but think
it wouldn't be happening
even if both were planning,
only one would have done anything.

it's too short to remember.

it's too long to forget.

she walks through the double doors
an exaggerated high five later
she stands between her and
the first one and wonders where
the water is and she focuses
on everything trying to hold on
to something but it all seems to
elude her grasp, everything is
too detailed, too vague,
too fast, too stretched,
too perfect, too ruined.

she is there but dazed
still numb but everyone else
is there, too, and they're her
saving grace,
her, always always always there,
him, silent comfort of a brother,
her, prompter as a friend,
him, smiling sensitive other brother,
her, leaving early but still hugging,
him, with honestly good intentions,
her, not knowing but encouraging,
him, my first beginning and end.

the aftermath is simple
from the ripped, shredded past
she's finally looking up
she sees the Arizona stars
yes she's looking up at last
and with a full broken heart
she's ready and there's
no turning back.