How long do we get to be considered “fragile” before our bones actually bear? After surviving years of gossamer fragility, do we still truly own the denial of fortitude, the right to remain silent, and the promise that feart or danger will destroy us? As I continue to hold the ceramics of my circumstance with caution, and offerings worth 40 days and 40 nights of hunger, is the value of my testimony still shattered mirrors, 7 years of bad luck, and horrid superstition? If my misery made it all this way, insofar as I have gone nowhere, will my back still splinter? Will anything at all fracture?
After all of this, from –10,121,990 back to Zero, and the absolute value of this “whole long ass [sheet] of improper names”, busted sneakers, and an Odyssey from the equator to America,
are you still destined to shatter from the fall?
To drop with such a distance away from the possibility of repair?
Fragility is an exponent truth, denied each moment you manage to keep it all together.