Despite All Odds

A poem

Photo by Evgeni Tcherkasski on Unsplash

It may not feel like
something extraordinary,
your life —

yet here in this twilight
on this grey couch
you inhabit a season,
a story, resting upon
the prairie of time.

Even when you don’t
trust in your goodness
the sweetgrass
threads the wind,

even in the cold
of night, frost
armors the ground.

And you, here, you are alive —
journeying between moments,
a soft light in the quiet
of your life, blinking,
however so faintly,
speaking the language
of the stars.