What will you give up for the season
to help life along
in its curious reversals?
As if we had a choice.
As if the world constantly shedding us
like the feathers off a duck's back--
the ground is always littered with our longings.
You can't help but wonder
about all the heroes, the lives sacrified
in the compulsion toward the good.
All those who dropped themselves
upon the earth's hard surface--
Weren't they caught in pure astonishment
in the breath before they shattered?
Nothing is tied so firmly that the wind
won't tear it from us at last.
The question is how to remain faithful
to all the impossible,
necessary resurrections.
-Lynn Ungar
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