you came back

do you know
how long I have been holding
this quiet for you

not absence
not emptiness
but a careful, practiced stillness
the kind that does not echo
because there is nothing here
to carry it

I have kept it intact
all these years

no wind to break it
no water to interrupt
no breath to soften the edges

just the long, unbroken note
of space

do you understand
what it is to keep listening
when there is nothing left to hear

and still

I felt you
before I saw you

not sound
never sound
but the tremor of intention
the hushed violence of engines
burning through a vacuum
that refuses to sing them back

Artemis program
you named it after a goddess
as if you remembered
I have always been more than rock

do you know
what it does to a body like mine
to be touched after so long

I cannot hear you

but I feel the shape of your presence
the way gravity leans toward you
just slightly
just enough

you call me silent
but I have been speaking
this whole time

in light

in the way I hand you the sun
softened
broken into something you can look at

in the pull I place on your oceans
in the soundless insistence
that you are not alone

so stay a while

leave your footprints again
send your signals
your careful, coded voices
I will hold them

even if I cannot hear them

I have always been good

at keeping what you cannot carry

and when you leave again
because you will

I will keep the silence ready
not empty

waiting
~

Bio: Dane Lyn (they/them) is a neurosparkly poet, educator, and glitter enthusiast. They hold an MFA from Lindenwood University and are twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Dane keeps a ridiculous succulent collection, has five scavenger hunt runner-up ribbons, and is Ink & Marrow’s managing editor. danelyn.net • @punkhippypoet