The grieving and the dying
just go on and on. It’s amazing
what a life they have,
this life of loss.
Neither right nor wrong,
this fucking heart.
Who knew the story
would be all about pain?
Who knew
you’d be asked
to give everything, then
give more?
How is it that the birds
singing and chirping this morning
are so unconcerned by this,
do not even know
loss’s name? How could humans
ever think they are better
than the animals, a life
of suffering superior to a life of song?
You’d do me a great kindness,
you gods, to let me come back
with flight and music as my only goals.
They are my only real goals now—
but i don’t reach them
with the ease the birds do—
and then there’s love—
that’s the one, the hook
where i am caught and the flesh
around my mouth tears,
and i bite down harder,
unwilling to let go.
—© Maxima Kahn, published in Tule Review
