• Lena Drake


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.

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