Laboracay - the annual man-made catastrophe that draws swarms of douchebags and airheads to this...
and so much site traffic within 2 hours of my #Laboracay Instagram post !
by Linda Gregg
I would like to decorate this silence,
but my house grows only cleaner
and more plain. The glass chimes I hung
Because sometimes we imagine benevolence in leavetaking.
Because mostly there is none.
Because mostly the world treats earnestness as sin,
looks for trees beyond windows when often there is only city.
Here a dry rag dragged across a table.
Here a closet full of blankets only, curtains drawn,
sometimes too little light to begin with.
So much cloth keeping no one warm.
Here a room and a bed and a child sitting on a bed.
My cupped hands containing a whisper,
my pockets brimming with stars.
You keening for some hidden brightness.
Because the heart relies on wishing to keep its rhythm.
Because the task of hands is to insist on holding.
Because mostly we fail.
Because mostly we wish each other forgetfulness.
Sometimes we wish each other well.