For the morning drizzle outside
cuddled with a lover
or the sweat on my brow
while I lift boulders.
For the smell of spices from a cast iron orange pot
or the lingering taste of fermented grapes
in the lull of a Thursday evening.
For the black man who waves
at a white baby
or the queer who helps the straight guy sow.
For the corrupt politicians finally serving their sentences
or the homeless woman finally getting a fresh slice of bread.
For the aborted children giving meaning to life,
or the orphans succeeding despite hardship and strife.
For the swing in my hips
when the strobe lights flash and the
music vibrates my ribcage.
For the conversations that last all night
or the eye contact with a stranger that lingers for weeks.
For discoveries revealing us to be insects
or the majestic Cathedrals
(Its own type of gift.)
For humanity’s love
(which needs explaining)
and the fault lines of the heart
causing families to slip between tectonic plates.
for utter chaos:
reminding us that we’re riders of this rock
with fists plunged deep into moist soul
we cultivate, we reap, we straddle
riding this beast till all is eventually
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