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The word “history” comes from an ancient Greek verb ίστωρειν meaning “to ask.” One who asks about things—about their dimensions, weight, location, moods, names, holiness, smell—is an historian. But the asking is not idle.
Allegedly the worst is behind us. Still, we crouch before the lip of tomorrow,
What it is we’re supposed to be doing. & what exactly are we supposed to be doing?
When asking how others were faring, We did not expect an honest or full response. What words can answer how we’re remaining alive?
Goodbye, by which we say to another— Thanks for offering your life into mine. By Goodbye, we truly mean: Let us be able to say hello again.
We added a thousand false steps To our walk tracker today Because every step we’ve taken Has required more than we had to give.
Anxiety is a living body, Poised beside us like a shadow. It is the last creature standing, The only beast who loves us Enough to stay.
We are walking beside our ancestors, Their drums roar for us, Their feet stomp at our life. There is power in being robbed & still choosing to dance.
Since the world is round, There is no way to walk away From each other, for even then We are coming back together.
Life is not what is promised, But what is sought. These bones, not what is found, But what we’ve fought. Our truth, not what we said, But what we thought. Our lesson, all we have taken & all we have brought.
In this one life, we, like our joy, are fleeting but certain, abstract & absolute, ghosts who glow & glow.
It’s said that ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is this: a vine that sneaks up a tree, killing not by poison, but by blocking out its light.
Heritage is passed not in direct recollection but through indirect retelling. Those who follow will not remember this hour, but this hour will surely follow them.
Ignorance isn’t bliss. Ignorance is to miss: to block ourselves from seeing sky.
In a letter I received from you two weeks ago I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase. It changed the meaning—did you intend this? One stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days.
