Jesus, If You Want Me To Do It I Will, But That Doesn't Mean I Won't Be A Little Baby And Cry About It

Jesus, if you want me to do it I will, but that doesn't mean I won't be a little baby and cry about it

there was a step on the staircase that creaked in the corner i'd forgotten that there was a nail in the back of the bookcase that kept sticking out i'd forgotten that the locks in my bedroom window were always getting stuck i'd forgotten that i had a blue cup with a dent in it and i filled it with chips of ice in the summer i had such a little body when I lived there, i remember everything being so much bigger but my bathroom was small and impossibly cramped and the staircase was narrow and I know that now but i'd forgotten that

- i don't know if I exist here anymore

Hoy desperté con la luna alumbrando mi cara Me desvelé por el frío que había en mi cama...

Then at night, stars separated by billions of miles, light travelling years to die in the back of an eye.

- K. Akbar, Do You Speak Persian?

My Mountains by Gabriela Mistral, translated by Ursula K. Le Guin

She looks at the sky, which seems fallen in the water. The sky seems tranquil, like her. She hears the wind in the jasmine.

Gabriela Mistral, from "The Tortoise" in Selected Prose & Prose Poems