Northern_Lights_2017

18 The Human Element Jessalyn Holsing Where did this point of view come from I ask you raising my voice above the boisterous sound of the waves of air that buffets the walls of our own personal palisades A pebble falls between my feet and goes down down down into the abysmal wasteland of fog and not a noise comes from a place that exists outside the ground It doesn’t exist is what I hear but your lips are moving differently and I cannot read them I want to ask you another question but you are here not there and not where I can actually be attuned to your heart for its beat is nothing without personal relation And your nonexistence is troubling I breathe from my lungs and you look at me with such sympathy that you are sorry that I love you We’re too close that I can’t feel you and human warmth is something your tangibility can’t portray until you’re gone And I’m left weeping and you say to me I wish you could feel not this in a situation not more It hurts I yell back but you can’t really understand me because our wavelengths aren’t always the same we’re on the same page that I’m writing but for some reason your hand stops the pen I’m not you say turning to me and eyeing my soul through my fingers You are I turn to face the ceiling that’s dotted with endless nothingness and the sky I’m scared I break my voice in two in a useless breath that I don’t think you need to see me breathe for I’m sure you’ll say I’m absurd as I clasp my hands to my chest So am I you admit and my chest twists and contorts into and out of passion and pain I wish I trail off my voice out in the wind and not using that precious word up Maybe someday I hear you say but your lips move differently and you’re drowned out by the precipice on which we half-heartedly stand.