Befalling

We walk with our chins pointing at the sky

thinking it is right to do whatever we want.

And forget about gratitude —

towards sound,

towards dawn,

towards life and lives.

Towards all the things,

that form that thing

that you do with your mouth.

When your lips wine

and parade your bones.

Because you do not think morrow could be a loss, yet we leap with our chins pointing at the sky.

 Ivanka Santiago

(Photo taken and edited by me)