3/30

4/3/13


When the body wilts and wanes;
the barreled chest of youth and health
gives way to birdhollow bones,
the hands understand only metal,
only wires - the braces and posts
that hold this sagging and diminished weight.

When the machinery of wellness,
the chimes and blips
the ceaseless drip
replace the music in your gut,
the ear begins to transform this mechanized
dissonance into one single note.

That note is will. 

If it is not heard, that is fine,
the body will pass however gently
from this place.  It is fine.

If it is heard,
no matter how faint,
it will grow riverquick
and surge to a roar in the ears.
It will propel limbs brittle and worn,
brighten muddied eyes.
It will become a symphony of yes and now,
swelling enough to engulf
everyone near in purpose,
even if only for a minute.
Even if only for now.