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?
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