It gives
and then it yields
a kind of breathing
that becomes
in our magnified glass
like birth and dying
unfathomable gratuity
these bones are so
unworthy of
then cruel withholding
of what the soul
deserves, an answer
the joyous letter from
a long-lost friend,
the call that's not
returned -
to learn to lean
into the lesson
to not expect
one's Lego village
in the flesh
instead, a road
without directions
without an ending
one can see
only surprises
that roll like dice
reflections
trembling
of mere survival.