Lived

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Lived

 

If you come closer, said the bone,

leave your hope behind, and 

your hopelessness too

 

there is room for all 

but that

in this mossy cathedral

 

where what sustained 

one leg

now serves another

 

for even if a stopped clock 

still tells of time

while your nearby heart breaks 

like a bone

 

the moment you are calling 

the end

knows not its own name

and waits for no agreement

not even your own

 

but loves even this,

fiercely

 

as it turns 

to what feels personal 

and creates with it

possibility,

 

asking each of us,

as the ancestor:

 

are you not also

being lived?

Yurt dweller, parent, partner, writer. Knows some things about medicine, life coaching, teaching, and the wilds.

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