Tomorrow retains the promises that fail to see all there is,
here in this moment, we fall to our sovereign feet,
in love with choice, yet the moment of calamity haunts our landscape,
loving the crass decisions as angels watch over us.
Someday, all shall be re-deemed, all will be made right,
our insecurities flying away like constructed demons,
our notions of what is righteous leaves cushions out curbside,
perhaps, the notion of justice is the allotted,
perhaps I leave the situation to greater forces beyond our control.
Protected lovers cause each other to smother intimacy,
yet, it’s intimacy in carving our own temptations,
it is the kiss of the hand, the one of goodbyes,
our children will remember the sweltering hot summers.
Justice moves fast when just is rushed, love is contained,
only in the process of movement can the rush begin,
444; perfected time to process the resultant allocation.
Now is the reality of mankind’s perfections,
the sensual touch of another caring hand, lips adorned in purple,
now is the reality of sensual carry through,
the touch of carrying through a promise.
Anna Rozwadowska 2020