I gathered myself into a glass silence,
so the world wouldn’t scatter me.
Outside, everything I love keeps drifting—
a house that still breathes my name,
my mother’s voice folded in light,
my father’s quiet hands I cannot reach.
I sit in shallow water,
drawing with a trembling memory,
as if each line could stitch distance closed.
Even you, my little cat…
somewhere between sleep and longing,
you still curl inside my chest.
