hard.

I don't like to say that things are hard.
perhaps, because them i am weak,
perhaps, because then i am complaining,
perhaps, because then i am challenging the path i am on,

challenging my ability to press on.

I don't like to say that things are hard.
maybe, because then i could give myself grace,
maybe, because then i would have less responsibility,
maybe, because then i'd have to rely on other humans for support

and i don't want to do that.

i want to speak of you,
to speak with you,
to have you here.

not because i want you,
but because i miss you

and this is hard.

but, i can in no way speak,
make no sound that may ripple your surface,
that may tremor your experience far away.

instead, i'll pray.
because this is hard.