Waterfall

Innocence.

When I was young,
I knew a lot about the world;
I knew about babies, and
walking home alone, and how
the busy streets of Morocco
smelt on market day.

I did not yet know hatred.
I did not yet know what it meant
to want to take a blade, and
open your arm, wrist to elbow.
To tie cinderblocks to your feet
and sink to the seabed,
to jump into nothing,
to embrace oblivion.

I float from thought to thought,
and entertain the idea of happy.

For Elin, thank you.