There are lives that do not announce themselves,
only continue...
Fold strength into your pockets
like something you might need later...
Before anything else,
he is handed expectations...
Before the sun learns every name for light,
she is already counting what the day might cost...
She is born where the maps forget to linger,
where borders are drawn through kitchen floors...
She wakes where the world begins asking too...
before the kettle speaks, before the sky agrees to...
Before the first appointment is missed, the day is...
Care is divided into fractions...
The world keeps a record, though not always...
some entries bold, some erased by habit...
The world is often heavier in her direction
without ever admitting it has shifted...
There are promises the world makes softly
so they do not sound like obligations breaking in...
The world draws its lines as if they are...
as if ink cannot bleed, as if borders cannot...
The sky does not discriminate in its reaching—
it settles over every street, every roof, every...