Small Worlds

by Caleb Azumah Nelson

We know death in its multitudes, but we’re all very serious about being alive.

I gaze at my parents, and see that a world can be two people, occupying a space where they don’t have to explain. Where they can feel beautiful. Where they might feel free.

It’s here, when I’m with her, I know that a world can be two people, occupying a space where we don’t have to explain. Where we can feel beautiful. Where we might feel free.

‘Anger is just love in another body.’

because it’s summer, two young people might notice each other at that bus stop – you know, that way in which you see someone you don’t know and there’s the sudden desire to want to know, to go towards them, to ask them who they are, to see them smile, to see what their gaze looks like in the sunshine – and because it’s summer, maybe you make the few steps to close the gap between you, introduce yourself, see what blooms in the space, what closeness might emerge,

I’ve only ever known myself in song, between notes, in that place where language won’t suffice but the drums might,