safe and sound

i'm home. i'm back in new york. i'm home.

it's 2am, i have to be up in 4.5 hours, and i didn't sleep a wink on the flight back. i think i'm supposed to be ready for sleep. i should be exhausted, cranky, and collapsing into bed trying to sort out the jumble in my head — which, thankfully, includes not just stupid things like feelings, and thoughts about feelings, but also things of some value, like poems.

poems! remember those?

but instead of being tired, i am wide awake and i feel ... i feel relieved. present. and wistful? maybe wistful, too.

flying over the city at night was healing. thank you for that.