Aracelis Girmay, "Elegy"

 
    What to do with this knowledge that
    living is not guaranteed?

Perhaps one day you touch the young branch
of something beautify. & it grows & grows
despite your birthdays & the death certificate,
& it one day shades the heads of something
    beautiful
or makes itself useful to the nest. Walk out
of your house, then, believing in this.
Nothing else matters.

All above us is the touching
of strangers & parrots,
some of them human,
some of them not human.

Listen to me. I am telling you
a true thing. This is the only kingdom.
The kingdom of touching;
the touches of the disappearing, things.


Aracelis Girmay

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