Work Text:
YEARLY MANTRA
I. THIS YEAR TRIED TO KILL ME
With his calloused hands dug into my shoulders, I thought I was dying. Again and Again I was dying, I knew, and I wasn’t crazy, I was dying. On a cold beach in September in a cold basement in November, I knew. I knew how this year turned me inside out and laughed. Hard. And I felt it behind my liver.
II. I LIVED ANYWAY
With my calloused hands soiled with forever dirt, I lived. And living is not surviving. On that cold beach in September I watched as the ocean coaxed me forward but I stepped back and went home and had some tea in my living room and I dreamed of a softer bed and woke up in one. In that cold basement in November I found myself closer and closer than I had ever been to my friend and I think I understood for once what he meant and how the forever dirt in his hands never left either and that maybe living was more than what either of us had imagined so I had to really live to make up for it. And I did. And my other half came to me as promised and lifted me with his own hands and they were warm. Mine were warm. And I felt it behind my heart.