Talking through a chasm,
dueling words
far-flung from wounds…

She taunts, shouts,
tightly bound
by fear of being judged.

Seeking retribution,
met by my damning silence
asking for calm
amid tumult.

Bridge this discord.
Keep the safety on.
Once shots are fired,
they cannot be called back.

This is the chasm.
that I will not enter
For it distorts me.
I must choose calm.
I shall choose distance.
I choose another way across.

I woke inside this tumult—
the words already formed:
chasm.
chasm.
chasm.

I rehearsed the bridges,
each one built of care,
of measured concern.

But her voice returns—
YOU! you, you—
as a closed circuit, a limitness loop.

I knew.
Any crossing
would collapse.

So I hold.
Keeping to patterns
that do not inflame.

A chasm of necessity.
A chasm of habit.

A distance she sustains—
while I try
to bridge elsewhere.

I knew.

Any crossing
would collapse.
I bridge elsewhere.

I choose calm.
I choose distance.

A chasm of necessity.
Not all crossings
are mine to make.
I hold the latch.
I keep the calm.
I bridge elsewhere.
elsewhere.
elsewhere.