The sun lays low above a northern parking lot
A backlit glow of shifting silhouettes reveals a trade
A get well card, some flowers for his mother
A good luck thumbs up, ready, steady, don’t break
When he boards the bus and shorts the fare
The driver says, “Son, wishing won’t get you anywhere”
As the twilight sets in heavy, he considers
All the times he must have missed the easy way
The solstice marks a decades-long erosion of his spirit
At the center of this longest shortest day
So lift yourself and shout into the mirror
Do it for all the times you thought you never could
Personify your fears
And forgive them for they know not what they’re doing here
Illuminate the path
Allow a shrinking light to guide you back
You’re catapulting secrets from a barstool
Shrouded in a language that you’ve only just made up
A stranger’s shaky hand is little comfort
But it’s an open door to manifest some good luck
"They only think we’re someone if we’re something
They say it’s all game over once you’re dead
The history books will never name our families or our lovers
But it’s not over, no, it’s not done until we say it is"
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