The first sentence... no, the first word.
Behind it - all words, all sentences, thoughts and stories - all muddled up.
Behind that first release, behind that hardening - frozen, withdrawn - all that I must say.
Behind that winter.
Behind that hesitation - all hesitation, all action.
Behind that stillness - all movement.
Behind that quiet - voices and echoes, his, hers and mine.
Behind that shadow - all light, everything.
And when it breaks,
Will it be a trickle of coherence
That brings all understanding, all forgiveness?
Or will it be an incomprehensible grunt?
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