Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

Not quite 12 noon, when the notion of revisiting old pains strikes me deep. We rise from the office view of Forest Park, and go to another suite we call our own, where offices of our own are lined up in their neat and clean way. How time files. We chose one door, the one with the red chairs and the white board and proceeded with our day. Storms hovered around our day. Still we stood, knowing this to be the deepest valley still. Even now, we still have everything we need. Then we imagine how a star and a moon can nestle beside each other within you. Inside, storms pass, yet stars and moon are you. What a life that would be, for this two within one body. We do not close the door, instead, for a long while, with the ones named Sun and Heart, we watch our cup overflow.