It Lasts Forever and Then It's Over

by Anne de Marcken

Emptiness spills into me. My ear is the Panama Canal connecting two oceans of emptiness. The emptiness out there and an emptiness in me. Dark. Entire. Impossible. Emptiness teeming with cold silence. It is so silent it is loud. It is unbearable. It is so familiar.

“Where is home?” “Home is like the moon,” she says. “Filled with grief?” “Never where you expect it.”

It is unbearable to look back from the future we did not know we had been traveling toward.