bruce merrill

The grip was always the heavier thing. What you thought you were holding has been holding you.

You strain toward the awareness you already are, and call the strain a search.

Most of what you say is the silence flinching.

The horizon kept moving because something in you needed it to.

The future you reach for and the past you ache toward share one address, and you are standing in it.

What you accuse the world of is the first honest thing you've said about yourself.

The storm was never the problem. The hand trying to hold it still was.

Every step you take toward the life you want is a step toward leaving it.