I want to let you know
that I have been writing about stories
that are not mine to tell.
They are the stories of someone
too young to have a voice.
And yet they are mine too
in that way that families share stories
and are linked by shared experiences.
It is like the trees
and how when one is hit with a blight or a drought-
all the trees around it know
because they have been told by roots
deeply buried and interwoven-
their interconnectivity becoming both
a way to nurture them
but also a way to warn and destroy them.
But, at the end of the day,
they are not my stories so, for now,
they become my silence.
blue sky infinite 