The edges of these cement walls

-Bryanna Millis

I am crumbling on my last day.

Like the edges of these cement walls,

I am battered by time.

 

I have lost myself among the hours.

I have forced patience into the blank spaces of days and nights.

But the sun that rises is not my sun.

Its cold light is indifferent and untrue.

 

I open my hands and open my hands and open my hands,

Ready to receive grace and let go.