an ode to this stubborn body

ANNA SNIDER

the famine should have killed us.

(the first or the second or the third time) but there is survival carved into my bones. some days, a joy that is too big to hold paints the walls of my mind until the urge the shrink fades into background noise. for once -- other days, I do not open my blinds or answer the door when this childish greed comes knocking. I wrap myself in musty blankets that do not keep me warm. relearns the careful dance that sunlight performs as she shines through particles of dust. still.

I am proud to be limitless.

& still. each afternoon forgiveness finds her way into my room. habitually answers the call of these aching bones.

& each morning my body relearns the art of staying.

I have made my bed everyday this week. & don’t laugh when I say that this is an accomplishment. as if existing is not the greatest achievement. as if survival is anything less than a miracle.

Plant Still Life