In the tremor of breath, I entered into
the weight of skin,
the warm pulse of blood beneath it.
Not in clouds or heavens, but here,
in the grit of earth, the slow creak of time.

I stepped into hunger,
the ache of unspoken words,
laughter that cracks through silence,
tears that water the dust.

The smallness of a hand held close,
the heartbeat pressed to another’s chest—
I am here, tasting the salt of pain and tears,
the sweetness...