I’d take a thousand years of it and a thousand more,
if only to get one more slice
of that round fruit
where eyes melt into one beating heart,
and a second sun rises from deep within.
What magic is there in all the Universe that is greater than that?
You want an arm?
Take it.
You want my tongue?
Fine.
I can still smile.
You gave me that long before I could grasp a rattle or ideas.
Before all the searching and scraping for things to hold.
And in this moment with you,
amongst these leaves, this earth, these trees, this sky—
one glorious sight after the other,
I would let you take them all if it meant
I could stay and still hear the chirping of the birds.
Or the rustling of chipmunks and voles in the underbrush.
The water thundering down the valley,
pouring over proud granite…
Or would you want my ears?
That’s okay if you do.
You can have them as long as I can still feel
the kiss of the wind against my face.
The sensation of dirt between my fingers
or the gentle scratch of another’s fingertips.
Oh, what I’d give to sit in this for a little longer.
Because I know of pain that’s too much.
I never thought I’d understand it
but when you’re curled in a wincing ball,
you start to beg—
and the learning comes.
I learned so much on that floor.
Not from any answers that came,
but because I finally asked.
That’s when I knew how much it all meant.
And from the ground, baring my teeth,
I saw that one against ninety-nine
is still more than zero,
and that a single small smile
can become two.
— ❧ —