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Alive
And so the greatness begins.
The bravery, unswerved, by neither the
mountains nor the world.
The craft you made
of the ashes from your cigarette
signaled an imposter of misgivings
as they fell from the sky
avoiding the trails of the wind
and hit the ground.
"The steps I took to get here", you had said,
"were the same steps
that landed someone else
in the dumpster."
That night you had said other things,
with the same conviction
as a dog and the moon,
a layer of dust,
buttons on a double breasted suit,
and perhaps
a balled up piece of paper
floating in your soup.
"I gave up everything.
And when I did
it felt as though the dirty film
that lined my insides,
vacated and
found somewhere
new to subside", you said.
I, so over-turned with belief,
that the veins which traced
the dirty side of my neck
began again
to pump
the blood
that once clotted in my throat
so many years
before.
