Blameless fights, small town warfare.
Consider red and what it carries.
My bruised knuckles hang over this warm body.
I’m simply tired, and I hear my name echo under low-hanging clouds.
I didn’t know, when I jumped with tightly shut eyes, that the water would protect me.
“Lay your hand, over this body.”
Born specifically of a fight, “one and the same” reflects on my experience living and growing up in a small lake town in western Canada.
Late one evening, with bruised and swollen knuckles, I found myself swimming against stormy waves in a warm and misty body of water.
