It came 4 minutes and 32 second ago
when I was typing my last blog.
I know why there has been a year of pain.
Why the aftershocks continue to rumble.
Where my phases of fleeting hatred well up from.
We both decided that we were
the kind of people who returned the cart.
Metaphorically. We put things back where they belong.
We tended to the world carefully.
And for years, we did that for each other too.
Finding the fulcrum after any difficulty.
Going through cycles of challenge,
but always finding a newer, higher, deeper place.
We put each other's heart back.
Except in the end. You left me out in the parking lot.
No where near the warmth.
No where to a safe home. Rain raining,
snow falling, my wheels rusting in place.
And I rolled around, wind gusts pushing me,
bashing into cars and through the traffic.
I made of wreck of it.
You did not put the cart back.
I'd never seen you do that before.
I'd never known you not to clean up a mess.
You did not put the cart back.
Even if it was empty, the food and nourishment
gone for you. You did not push the cart back,
though it would have been so easy to do.
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