I Hope I Meet You In Some Other Lifetime

I hope that we come back as birds. I hope the next life we live doesnt tie us down to one place or one savour or one understanding of the world as it appears on solid ground. I hope that in our next airliner of living we are freer than we were ever in this one that we follow any gust where it blows and we dont worry about which is something we bellow home and that we never have to feel lost or received because wherever we rest our weary wings together, we know we already belong. I hope that in the next life we get, were untethered. That we belong to the sun and the skies and to each other and that nothing has to tear us from the wild.

I hope that we come back as trees. I hope our roots nestle into the earth, our souls learn to call out in mirth and that each wintertime drives us deeper and closer into the grime we’ll return to in the end. I hope our branches reach up to the skies and your roots start to intertwine with mine and that we never hear stories of the pastures, the fields and the open roads that could have beckoned us away, toward some Neverland with always-greener grass. I hope that in another lifetime, exactly what we have is enough.

I hope that we come back as spiders. I hope that in our next life, “weve been” beings so dreadful and loathsome that our sins no longer feel caked on our skin that our repulsion and disfavour is a God-given part of our nature that we can no longer deny. I hope we have no qualms about the badness of our is available on the next life we get to live out. I hope we relish in the chance to be dreadful all our actions so evilly pure and intentions insincere. I hope in our next lives, we come to make peace with our atrociousness.

I hope that we come back as pilots. I hope we spend years scanning the skies, passing one another by only a few miles or a few airports or a few patches of turbulent climate apart. I hope you tip-off your hat to me late one summertime afternoon in a dingy airport sofa. I hope I daydream about you that night eyes growing hazy and hands growing lazy with the thought of your lips upon mine. I hope we die in a fiery accident, thousands of miles above the earth, never knowing quite how explosive we could have been down on the ground.

I hope that we come back as strangers. I hope Im raised in a cramped Brooklyn loft with a burnt-out pair of mothers who name me something asinine and youre a rich child from the upper East side and our eyes lock one day on the 6 develop when my tethered, choppy style entices your lopsided smile. I hope we share a wine-drunk kiss in the back of a Soho bar and that you build me forget where we are and that for one night our star-crossed love affair can light all of Manhattan on fire.

I hope that you come back courageous as somebody stronger and taller and braver than you ever knew how to be in this lifetime. I hope that you dont second-guess who you are, that your ability stretches far, that the distance between your heart and mine becomes small enough to bridge in the world that we have to look forward to.

I hope I come back as someone who can love you. As the various kinds of girl whose mind doesnt race and whose knees never quake and who knows how to offer my heart in such a way that wont waiver or wane. I hope that I am big enough, brave enough, whole enough to realize that a lifetime beside you could be greater and wilder and freer than any I could entertain on my own.

I hope we learn to call one another home.

I hope we come back as people we’re not. As ones who arent afraid to make a move or take chances or base their lives on happenstance. Ones who dont need a rhythm or rhyme. Ones who dont fret if the stars are ever going to align.

And ones who dont have to pin their hopes on the existence of some other lifetime.

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