Category Archives: The Liminal Times

Lines (Part 2)

Hajdúnánás Lines (Part 2)
They built the lines
measured, mapped, and marked—
straight as days are long.

But roots whisper old songs
and bones remember wind.
The sky was never a ceiling.

So we stretch—
bend where they said “stand,”
rise where they set weight.
The earth does not ask permission.

Frames splinter,
grids crack,
yet the sun still warms
what grows beyond them.

The Line

Pregabalin back order The Line

It is not the wind that moves,
not the earth that shifts,
not the river breaking its banks.

It is the line.
Straight, unyielding,
though the ground beneath it sways.

It does not ask if the hill is steep,
if the night is long,
if the body bends under its weight.

It does not pause for a voice behind it,
the call of a soft chair,
the hush of a closing door.

It is only forward.

And forward is the only path it knows.

Unyielding

Unyielding

Tell me—
what is love if not the teeth bared,
the breath held, the earth rushing up
to meet your refusal?

What is devotion if not the leap—
not graceful, not careful,
but certain?

There is no calculation in love,
only the knowing:
this is mine to hold,
this is mine to keep safe.

And so,
with the sky against me,
with the wind cutting through,
I do.