If I Could Barter with History, If I Could Bribe Fate

Their memories are vague concepts to me.
Myself, who never knew their fields:
I can only catch glimpses from a distance,
aided by stories told across chasms of time
and left written in the sand when the empathy tides recede
on memory shores. 

All the same, if I could change one thing for them,
If I could pull them from the ocean,
draw any water from their lungs,
trade it with the air from mine:
I would.
I would fix it all. 

I would.
Hand on my heart, I would. 

If I could pay fate in memories, I would sacrifice mine.
I’d hand that cruelty all recollections of me, small tokens as they are;
I would trade my place on their timeline
if it meant I could roll it back to wonderful. 

If I could pay history with bonds, I would throw my friendship on a sword.
I would sever this connection if it would only sway history to return
that which was stolen from them far too soon. 

I would.
Hand on my foolish bleeding heart, I swear I would.  

History and fate, however, stand strong:
they will never barter, never be bribed, never be purchased.  

I spit on their honour.

My offering today:
remaining near, on standby,
knowing I will not be needed but prepared all the same.

Knowing that their love is enmeshed in the stars now,
I remember that one day we will all be stars again,
and stars forget nothing.

.

June 4, 2025

Related: Empathy Tides on Memory Shores