Grateful…

for the senses and the way they point to the now, make you feel for the future, and offer some kind, any kind, of relationship to the complicated and beautiful nature of memory

for the acquired taste of things that remain

for the recognition of pleasure found inside an eager mouth, moans that come as quickly as they go, and full, satisfied lips wrapped around themselves

for love and warmth and warm places

for community, group hugs, and our people gathering to sing and pray and press remedies into our skin when we find ourselves all variations of sick

for the darkness that swallows you whole and spits you out - changed, altered, armed at least with a knowing

for the gooey, bright, ethereal divine thing that sometimes happens while you’re just sitting there, right after you whisper to yourself, “How? Why me? I’m not sure I can make it through this.”

for the moments we find the same things funny at the same time, over and over and over again

for the full heart that meets you when you’re done with all of that

for every ancestor who decided to come here and be here so we could become

for you. that beautiful beating heart. and every detail that makes you, you