Letting

Right now, in this moment…

If I had a voice for singing, it would be rough with ragged edges. It would carry on calloused feet, and walk on and on and on.

It would fall slowly and sink into pores and corners and pockets and curled-up hat brims. Hanging heavy, making moments feel full of rainwater.

It would climb the air like rockets. It would scream without screaming.

It would stomp its tired feet and then keep walking.

And it would be lovely without lying down. It would be lovely without needing you to hold on. It would be lovely without asking you to love it.

It would ring out in a beautiful mess of arcing arrows. In the welled corners of eyes. In a steady course of planted steps. In a bed of wild red poppies.

If I had a voice for singing right now.