In time, even the meaning of timechanges, though it does not. I used to bristle at what I imaginedwas its rough touch, its interfering.What it withheld was never the same aswhat it gave, when finally it opened its hand.And then, sometime after the middl…  | By Luisa A. Igloria on June 26, 2024 | In time, even the meaning of time
changes, though it does not.
I used to bristle at what I imagined
was its rough touch, its interfering.
What it withheld was never the same as
what it gave, when finally it opened its hand.
And then, sometime after the middle,
I fevered or trembled at its approach.
I used to believe it was another name for promise,
for what endures beyond fog— Time, you do
endure. And in some ways I do, too. Ask me
what I've let go of, what I've let befall me. | | | |
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