Good News
Good News By Laura Evans I miss groggy steam rising my coffee maker, growling over grounds begrudgingly distilling joy‑scented promise I miss tracing cracked leather lines my steering wheel, sliding through my hands relinquished for two tense grips: bus pole and handphone I miss unripened shades of green my weekly cluster of bananas, awaiting consumption now I wait, resigned, for fruit in its season Miss understanding conversations in passing solving crosswords with my mother each morning testing the bounds of my physicality Craving such small comforts like knowing how green lights cycle at neighborhood intersections which chocolate milk tastes most like my childhood what unbothered street offers space to dance unobserved But twice daily, commute between harbor and hills painted in sunlight, I am overwhelmed sitting witness, stenographer of this serendipity The good news is: These days I distill my own joy dance in the morning suppress a smile, work myself awake The good news is: A bowl of soup needs no translation love, placed on the table before me its grammar, conjugations of compassion The good news is: I can call home miles of distance, hours of time mere ellipsis when I hear “Hello?” The good news is: I reinhabit my neglected body as I sweat and I breathe blue belt on black gi1 The good news is: I am content in this Life: collection of iterations on old habits. I’m rebuilding Connection: the kindness of humanity, my anchor Gratitude: embodied, the sun rising over my skin and the sea.