yesterday.
Nothing left of the trailer home
fiber glass splattered with blood.
Crumpled form, one hand still
holding tattered fabric
where the baby had grown.
Same day, new reality
shell of the trailer exploded.
No one noticed broken glass.
Didn't hear the gasp of a woman
walking the path after the storm
that spared them.
Back to the first timeline,
three decades later.
Graves left to crumble.
Bones nestled neatly
beneath dirt that needed them
more than the family
that never says their names.
All those years later,
In the realm of impossible
stories imprinted in time.
Another storm stirred.
She sent a text to her mother.
“Get to shelter, there's a warning.”
They were safe, but trembled anyway.
She still remembered dying
before she'd ever been born.


Past lives intertwined with our current ones is such a crazy interesting topic, I enjoyed this