skog
I wrapped my palm around the bamboo reed, pushed it
And it swayed: reluctantly, gracefully
slow motion delay.

I shook the reed as hard as I could
And its strength, its tallness
Kept it swaying slow.

As if this life could have splintered off
Into a thousand opportunities
Like a life that could have always happened
To someone else —

But I wanted it to be mine
Wanted my whole life to sway.

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