the sky shifted
I fell for the version
that never arrived
time kept moving
as if it had
the sky shifted
just enough
to let the light through wrong
pulling my ribs
wide
I kept listening
for footsteps
that mistook the road
a sound
pushing the past away
a crack through
the air
rock fearing
rivers
I was learning the sound
of something
almost
whilst the future—
it never learned my name
the clouds moved close
no sound
no rain
birds tilting mid-air
as if listening too
even the fields leaned in
towards a horizon
air thickening
with words unsaid
and I stood there
ribs open
waiting
for the weather
that called itself promise
for the sun
that named the sky
waiting for a future
that never learnt my nameㅤ
ㅤ
ㅤ
For those who choose to go a little deeper,
paid subscribers get
a monthly essay,
access to a Guided Noticing,
and occasional paid-only pieces.
Everything I publish publicly stays public.
This is about making space for slower work, and for people who want to stay close to how it’s made.
If you’ve been hovering, this is a good moment to step in.
I’m always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.
Other prose and poems from me.
Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.
If something moved in you — a silence that whispered — I’d love to hear it below, or in my DM’s.
All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery
Ouch!
Mark, I feel so seen in this longing for something that only ever existed in possibility. And I love how the poem doesn’t explain itself or beg for sympathy. It just stands there, ribs open. Thank you for writing it.