I stood there for one hour.
Watching cars in front of me move,
as candle lights lit and held
by old people I’ve never met.
Moving with them were the years I held,
and the years I’ve yet to hold.
I watched them take pieces of me,
which until then I deemed important to be,
and with a wry smile
I saluted their grandiose entrance and their fast leave.

I was in a state of discomfort–
a state of being I found comforting to be.
I took a picture of my face,
even though, at that moment
I felt the light lying to me,
but, being in that state of discomfort
trust me,
that was the most comforting thing
I could have done,
and that was comforting enough for me.


2 thoughts on “Comfort

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