By Jamie Smith
Salmon Arm, BC
Birds glitching
In unsure light
Among the details
Decisions made
Storms weathered
Hesitations
Doubts
Long unfinished lists
Weight that must be shed
An event we can’t remember
That in itself built the door
Through which everything else has passed
Is this the cut that undoes the cord that binds?
People are weather we endure
Clothe ourselves against
Or
Sit and with some greed take light and heat from
Leaning into them
Everything about people everything that we can perceive about them everything we can know
Comes to us through a singularity
Which was at some point
An original event that defined for us everything about everyone we would ever meet
Is the cut that undoes the cord that binds?
We have been many people and most of them would not recognise the others as being us
An inscrutable dust makes us a scattered pattern of particles arcing across the space between stars
Filed deep in the code that our cells copy then recopy
this decaying framework this fading impression this declining radius this
this
what is this what are we?
We are whatever it is that can’t be lost
We are whatever it is that remains at the top
of the widening ladder we climb
Is this the cut?
Copyright © Jamie Smith, 2020