the things of sand and salt

the body moves in such a way
that other creatures are envious
of our stature. our opposable
thumbs, our lack of dorsal fins.
somehow we climb the ranks,
making fire, making love,
making shelters that envelop
our paramount; our success.

and yet, our declination;
invisible at times but to ourselves,
is whole-hearted. lifting up
and over the dreams and homes
we have grown into. Our souls
carry out and over, our
ineradicable heaviness. not to
be built or sold or borrowed,
but only to be felt in such a way
that separates us from winged
mammals, cold blooded scales,
or gills for subaquatic breath.

it is our sorrow that magnifies us.

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