there are tambourines and samma climbing on my lap, the smell and sound of onions in the other room. i lift my voice to meet those around me, i lift it up to that point in the sky, to see if it can fit, to see if i can match it. time moves, around corners and over things, and there is so much living going on, so much sorrow, so much grief. i open the door and think of how if it is that i fall back, if it is that i vanish, there are all these gentle hands there to catch me. resting on the small of my back, to give me grace. i wonder if they feel that? resting there, magnets to my spine.