When despair for the world restrains me, when it becomes too difficult to feel anything at all and I cannot move for the way my spinal column coils the way snakes play dead, I see my someday daughter like a conscience, like a ghost Must she inherit all this darkness?
I retreat into the rhythm of my pulse, Into a single cellโs brave journey from heart to brain Unburdened by grief or forethought, Flowing freely. A heart is a heart, and a stone is a stone; I can choose to be soft like an animal, like trust.
I remember there is another world- it is tucked just inside this one.