I awoke alive to my own aliveness,
The kind of awareness that feels like invincibility;
The kind of aliveness that makes you want to solve everything:
To make every man aware of his soft underbelly,
To make every white person aware that Black Lives Matter;
To make every nut-job awaken to the reality of pandemics – biological, ethical, and environmental.
I awoke facing my own aliveness in a way that feels like victory over self;
Like I could finish every project:
every book, every poem, every screen play, every video clip, every blog post I’ve ever started
but left scattered to the never ending march
the overwhelming burden of consciousness,
I awoke inhaling the very essence of aliveness,
through every pore of my skin,
in a way that feels like belonging;
like today will be the day I stare down mortality and make IT shake in its boots
(for a change).
I awoke alive to my own aliveness in that quiet plea of every living human
And my brief time must somehowÂ
Iâ€™ve not known, until now, of your writing talents.
I â€œdigâ€ this, for lack of better words at 1AM.
Your brief time here makes sense. And is necessary. Stretch it out. Make it last. Make it be the tootsie pop with a gajillion licks till the middle.