At this point
it would be a great comfort just
to hear my upstairs neighbour
and his girlfriend, fucking, laughing, crash in the kitchen,
normal life resumed;
or to wake and find a garden
where my bathtub-like balcony used to be,
or to find myself in the midst of woods, alone, maybe, but
free to go.

Greater still to see my loves,
ambigous, battle-tried, loving, unharmed,
meet them when we outshine glitter –

that would be great but

the greatest comfort, greatest joy,
greatest „all is well“ if nothing else
would be
to hear you are
that you‘ll stick around
not leave the earth
anytime soon