I needed to write this poem
with a pen,
to hold the familiar
as the unfamiliar raged
I needed to write this in ink
to remind myself of the cycles
of permanence
becoming
impermanence
as all we knew might happen,
came to be
I needed to know my friend,
a continent away,
had a week of joyous reunions,
where she was seen and known;
and it was light and green
and her air was clear
I need to hold her week
in my orange land,
where we sent smoke signals
across the sea,
hoping we will redeem
our ways
and bring back the sky.
