By Tony Brown
There is no reason
nothing matters. if it were easier to
make things happen, perhaps things would matter
because they would be possible.
they are not.
there are whole countries
where the mention of possibility
families stumble on their way home
and cry out: it's impossible.
the way is long, the night is dark
and we are too small to reach the shore, even if we
hold onto one another.
the man and the woman, the man and the man,
the woman and the woman
are all impossible.
merger defaults to clash.
faces that were kissing
soon strike each other, bruising lips, leaving
cheekbones aching; they begin to turn away.
two people step into a city crowd at the same time.
they never meet, walk parallel
to the same dock, step on and then off the ferry
separately. the next day, one leaps from the ferry
and a cosmos is lost.
the other goes home as calm as a tomb,
knowing nothing of what has passed by him.
this is the way it is: impossible.
we are not equipped to make it happen. ever.
if it happens, once and then rarely again,
it happens in spite of us.
pray for the ability
to witness, take hold,
and hang on.