To Who I Was

I can give you words about hope

because I know that you need them.

But I’m going to tell you about distance

because those are words you need even more.

At first you will measure the distance from your past

every day

just to make sure it stays behind you.

You will cry yourself to sleep.

There will be days when it feels like

Tears are hiding behind your eyes

And all you will be able to do

Is breathe.

You will tell yourself to keep breathing

and that will keep you alive,

even as you measure each breath

to make sure you don’t collapse

in on yourself.

The distance will help

when you start to measure your time

in months of living.

Your spine will feel like it’s finally unraveling,

ready to stand

now that it’s out from under him.

Your arms will spread out like wings in your new home,

you’ll reach out in every direction

searching for the edges of yourself

but not finding them.

You will still need to tell yourself

to breathe

sometimes.

Because even though the distance from your present is far

the fear you felt will reach forward

trying to pull you back.

But you will look down at your hands,

feel the freedom in the life

between your vertebrae

and you will

keep breathing.

You will breathe in and count the distance,

nine

ten

fourteen months.

You will breathe out and count the distance,

One thousand, one hundred and

seventy-two miles

out from under him.

How do you live?

The answer is distance.

At all times you count the distance.

With every breath you count the distance.

Then one day

you will find yourself

forgetting to measure at all.