- Lena Drake
Sunrise
I’m not sure where I end
and the rest of the city
begins. Today I watched
the sun leak into Athens,
cleansing and pretending
that we’d all get a second
chance. Greece has been
known to wake even after
they’ve named her dead.
Endurance is a virtue to
some, survival to the rest.
I napped as they do in
the ancient city and saw
you in a place I won’t call
a dream, due to the fact
that you were there: you
who is real, who tells me
it all happened and it’s
just love that falls from
our reality only to be
found again. We are.
You weren’t frightened
you were reborn like their
national bird, the phoenix.
They claim it as I claim
you. If you feel something
exists, does that make it
real? These days I don’t
feel much at all besides
the empty spaces left
without your voice to
fill them. They say a heart
has mass, but is it only
waiting to be filled?
Moments after sunrise
the sirens sing. I wonder
if you’ll be there to guide
those who move on to
the place I dream of. You
are still flesh and blood
somewhere. You are still.
You, the helpful one.
You, who rises in my mind.
You, who filled the space.