(no subject)
After an earthquake hits, the impact begins to settle. Debris moves upward to a surface that is cracked. Showing the damage, concrete builds character in the newly developed tears. You remember what you were doing the moment the Richter scale soared, you remember the chaos that erupted, and the catatonic hum that swelled the room after the shake had ceased. After the seism, the calm begins to dwell through your bones, chilling colder until your body reacts with a soothing warmth. Your pets are safe, your belongings may have stirred, but they are whole and you are standing on stillness.
The calm doesn't last for long. The impending certainty of another jolt haunts and unravels the solidity of the ground your feet have clung to. It is in this moment, the moment after the first and prior to the next that you embrace the entirety of the occasion.
It is in this moment you are able to fully see the fallen trees and the passive, languid quality his face holds. He had been expecting to hold tight to you as the rhythm sang, but has merged farther from the place he stood the second your brain connected the movement with time and energy it held. Between the two of you is an identifiable canyon, impenetrable to the careful steps you begin to walk after the rubble has settled. Through opaque dust, it is difficult to make out the figure of his statuesque defeat, but the presence is felt intrinsically. It is a leap towards him that not even the strongest pair of legs could will themselves to clear. You may attempt the jump, mentally preparing each step, aware that a second quake would deem the vault unspeakable. You will envision yourself on the other side, as if the other side holds less damage than each respective side you've been sent to. Having not chosen the side you're on, you feel it nothing less than absolutely necessary to spring into the cool air, abandon the security of the known for a risk that promises more benefit than it does loss.
Is it the depth of the hole you fear most? Or is it the threat that the other side is filled with the turned shoulder of a person who has not considered the leap as thoroughly as you. Is it the chance that throughout this mental questioning, he has begun to walk to higher ground? And if he has, is it the reality that he cares not whether you are capable to follow?
In time, the clarity of the division will expose itself and the pictures that swung off their hooks will be placed again on the walls, perhaps in the hands of a sturdier fixture, certain not to fall again in the event the earth will rumble.
In the end you will choose to propel yourself forward praying to find again the now tarnished certainty.
An aftershock has yet to hit, but you are nestled under the shoulder of the boy who could only run so fast before you could catch up. His face is cold and stern, but a sweet smile breaks the monotony, mimicking the fractures in the pavement. You are together now, but the gaps still hold and are not easily disguised. Thick spools of molasses sealant will catapult from heavy machinery in the weeks to come, but the tons cannot erase the fissures that burn in your pupils when you close your eyes and remember.
You will always remember where you were the instant before the earthquake hit. You will have to learn to remember where you were the moment after, but in time, the crevice in his shoulder may be enough to repair the threat of a tumbling city.
The calm doesn't last for long. The impending certainty of another jolt haunts and unravels the solidity of the ground your feet have clung to. It is in this moment, the moment after the first and prior to the next that you embrace the entirety of the occasion.
It is in this moment you are able to fully see the fallen trees and the passive, languid quality his face holds. He had been expecting to hold tight to you as the rhythm sang, but has merged farther from the place he stood the second your brain connected the movement with time and energy it held. Between the two of you is an identifiable canyon, impenetrable to the careful steps you begin to walk after the rubble has settled. Through opaque dust, it is difficult to make out the figure of his statuesque defeat, but the presence is felt intrinsically. It is a leap towards him that not even the strongest pair of legs could will themselves to clear. You may attempt the jump, mentally preparing each step, aware that a second quake would deem the vault unspeakable. You will envision yourself on the other side, as if the other side holds less damage than each respective side you've been sent to. Having not chosen the side you're on, you feel it nothing less than absolutely necessary to spring into the cool air, abandon the security of the known for a risk that promises more benefit than it does loss.
Is it the depth of the hole you fear most? Or is it the threat that the other side is filled with the turned shoulder of a person who has not considered the leap as thoroughly as you. Is it the chance that throughout this mental questioning, he has begun to walk to higher ground? And if he has, is it the reality that he cares not whether you are capable to follow?
In time, the clarity of the division will expose itself and the pictures that swung off their hooks will be placed again on the walls, perhaps in the hands of a sturdier fixture, certain not to fall again in the event the earth will rumble.
In the end you will choose to propel yourself forward praying to find again the now tarnished certainty.
An aftershock has yet to hit, but you are nestled under the shoulder of the boy who could only run so fast before you could catch up. His face is cold and stern, but a sweet smile breaks the monotony, mimicking the fractures in the pavement. You are together now, but the gaps still hold and are not easily disguised. Thick spools of molasses sealant will catapult from heavy machinery in the weeks to come, but the tons cannot erase the fissures that burn in your pupils when you close your eyes and remember.
You will always remember where you were the instant before the earthquake hit. You will have to learn to remember where you were the moment after, but in time, the crevice in his shoulder may be enough to repair the threat of a tumbling city.