i cannot walk down this corridor without tears
where behind each door is a memory that
i visit and revisit and turn over in my hands
examining the shape of what was
moments sharp and clear and warm and cold and soft
considering what could have been and wasn’t
unable to wonder what lies farther along the way
for the sake of sanity and wholeness
trading magic for magic is not easy;
nothing worth having ever is, so they say
i must believe them
the light of hope casts
such long shadows
narinda heng 