Somewhere, a glass falls off a table,
and somewhere else it doesn't.
A hand catches it.
A hand hesitates.
A hand was never there.
Every choice diverges.
Every yes scatters a thousand futures,
every no, a thousand more.
The world is a library,
every book read aloud
in different rooms
by different versions
of the same voice.
Right now
I am brave.
I am cautious.
I am staying,
because love feels stronger than fear.
I am leaving,
because fear feels stronger than love.
There is a universe
where words land differently,
where that night does not replay itself
a thousand times.
There is another
where the worst thing happened
and then something small and good
happened anyway.
A stranger with the right words.
A morning that didn't come.
A morning that did.
Grief is happening forever.
So is relief.
So is the moment I almost fell,
and the moment I did.
Somewhere, the version of me who hardened
is tying her shoes and dreading another day.
The version who didn't is writing a poem.
The version who jumped is still falling through the night.
If everything is happening,
then nothing is wasted.
Not the love that failed.
Not the life I didn't choose.
The hand I almost held.
Or the person I almost wasn't.
Somewhere, I am whole already.
Somewhere, I am still becoming.
Both are true.
Both are happening.
Both are everything.
Right now.
--
*Poem inspired by, and title borrowed from the (very weird) movie by the same name. Worth seeing, if you haven't, but it's not for everyone.
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