“Because we don't know when we will die,
we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well.
Yet everything happens only a certain number of times,
and a very small number, really.”

―Paul Bowles, from The Sheltering Sky

to live
to live without

without saying mother
without holding a new born child
without lending the warmth of a smile
without seeing likeness in another’s eye

without tasting gravity of tears
without breathing sadness of the weeping willows
without finding eternity between two beats of the heart
without realising that darkness is only a shadow passing by

without listening to rain rocking silence of the tin roof
without understanding that infinity can be reached
without recognising the circular nature of the end
without awakening endlessly to a first day

without measuring nothingness beyond the blue sky
without watching a snowflake vanish into a territory of the skin
without solving at least one equation of the unknown
without traveling until it feels like home

without knowing it was man who invented God
without believing that religion equals wars
without accepting that democracy is not blind
without calculating a distance between right and wrong

without acknowledging that all blood tastes the same
without feeling broken by the genocide of homelessness
without abandoning all the colours of hope
without forgetting all the evil to find humanity once more

without facing stillness of air just before a bullet is shot
without thinking about suicide
without tracing the architecture of art
without hearing whispers of the D minor cord in the prelude number 24

without reading Sylvia Plath or Marcel Proust
without giving birth or planting a tree
without being touched by the lover's breath
without meeting death

to live
to live without
without walking through the forest of words
will be like
to never


Kylie Supski, 2018, Melbourne

1 comment

  • Chantel


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