Time whispers warnings through my body long before the body knows why. My bones murmur in the dark. They count: minutes, hours, months, years. Their math is impeccable. Ruthless Intimate. These are days my heart races ahead of me and days it lags behind. It is rarely punctual but always honest. My pulse forks, one beat for the body one for the unseen life I might have lived if even one choice had been different.
I think it was Joan Didion who advised that we remain on good terms with the people we used to be, so why not also stay on good terms with those we might have been?
The closing image stayed with me. A pulse divided between the life we inhabit and the one that quietly remains possible is both beautiful and unsettling. There’s a rare honesty in the way you let time speak through the body rather than around it. Thank you for this thoughtful piece.
Thank you, Antonio, for reading and commenting. It is unsettling. It’s sort of like realizing that every sentence I write drags the body of another sentence behind it.
Thank you for this restack, @Harley King
Thank you for sharing this poem, @Kathleen Hobbs
You're welcome Paul
Grateful to @Madison Riker for this restack—thank you, Madsy.
My thanks to @Nora O’Dowd for the gift of this restack!
My thanks to @Lor for restacking this.
You’re welcome, Paul. Have a great evening!
You do the same, my friend!
Thank you for sharing this, @Lique
Thank you for this restack, @Maureen Doallas
Thanks to @Stanley Wotring for this restack!
Thank you for sharing this, @Chen Rafaeli 💛
"It is rarely punctual
but always honest."
The heart knows.
🖤
Thank you, my friend.
Here’s to that unseen life… whatever it may have been.
I think it was Joan Didion who advised that we remain on good terms with the people we used to be, so why not also stay on good terms with those we might have been?
I like to think we’re living all of them.. just unaware..
I think we carry them with us, Patris.
The closing image stayed with me. A pulse divided between the life we inhabit and the one that quietly remains possible is both beautiful and unsettling. There’s a rare honesty in the way you let time speak through the body rather than around it. Thank you for this thoughtful piece.
Thank you, Antonio, for reading and commenting. It is unsettling. It’s sort of like realizing that every sentence I write drags the body of another sentence behind it.
The wrist watch was too tight. Removed the heart beat faster. Time to rejoice.
I stopped wearing a watch long ago. I’ve breathed more easily ever since.
“….. ….It is rarely punctual
but always honest……..”
… “ if even…” 🙏🏻
Thank you, Andrea
At least it’s honest😁… as far as unseen life, it’s yet to come✨