words. by Hudson Biko
often
growing up
after a fall
i was told
to let the wounds
be.
that the best
way for their
healing
was their solitude.
that scars could come
but most would
go.
and i would be better.
it is a weird thing.
for i am all grown now.
and i
try
and try
and try
let the wounds be.
and it just doesn’t seem to work anymore
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Matheus Ferrero
we were always taught
to be careful of the matches.
always asked
not to stand
too close
to the flames.
always kept
so far
and so wary
of the fire.
so
how
were we meant
to be ready.
for worlds
destined
to burn
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by guille pozzi
they will write
poems
about
healing.
and
smile
in their photographs.
and sometimes
they
will believe it
too
© Hudson Biko
it was close.
the days were the good kind of long.
and the hearts were the good kind of soft.
and the possibility of more.
ran. tart. in the air.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Annie Spratt
the world has a way.
of giving you. the things.
you are sure. you want.
to let you know. there is
always.
something else.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Thought Catalog
what about. the chance
of gold. at the end
of rainbows.
of magic. in the
things we understand.
what happens
to that
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Velizar Ivanov
