Tartan fish swimming through the bones of time

Time is full of voids,
empty spaces devoid of substance or meaning.
You think,
– Where has the time gone?
and there is no answer.
There is evidence:
worn out shoes, wrinkles, bigger digits on the calendar and your pay slips…
But the time collapsed, like an empty balloon, and there is nothing there but a thin film of facts.

Time is supported by a skeleton.
Big, public ribs – wars and discoveries:
a burning child running down a dusty street,
tears in the eyes of a woman who can see again,
a man stepping in front of a tank,
another – stepping out of a shuttle into the void,
facing overpowering odds with the same grim determination.
Small, private bones:
sitting on a curb, waiting to be picked up when everyone else is gone,
feeling your hand on my back while making love – so big and warm,
holding my child, crying in pain and joy,
screaming in fear and frustration at the sight of love slipping away,
laughing helplessly at a silly joke repeated again and again.
Moments of loss and gain,
kindness and thoughtlessness,
Moments that stretch time and give it shape.

Time has bones,
bones that keep you up,
bones that stick in your throat
and make you choke.