If I could climb into
the burning core of the sun,
I would press questions
into the heat with my yearning heart,
and thirsty fingers and shy mouth.
How do you keep shining
when you have witnessed the world
break and reshape itself
so many times?
How do you stand
not being able to cry out,
when decisions are made that will trample souls and darken
lights of lives?
How do you heft
the knowledge
that life depends
on you?
How do you persist when you know you will keep breathing warmth onto the grasping earth
long after the child
laughing in your golden pools
no longer can dream
of being your best friend?
You would tell me
the answer is that you accept
your own glow.
In a voice as wise as a teacher’s
as gentle as a new mother’s.
as I slid out of your center,
magically unburned,
And turned back
towards our earth,
you would tell me
that we’re not so different.
You give, And I give,
and you create, and I create.
The world leans on us; we need the world.
My lifespan may be shorter,
but everyone knows
Shorter doesn’t mean less.
Megan Dausch is a writer and Accessibility Specialist living in New York. She makes her home with her husband and guide dog. Her work has appeared in The Tishman Review, Third Wednesday, Breath and Shadow, and The Promethean.
Illustration by C.B. Auder.
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