Do I want to live? Do I really
want to live with every sense,
in each moment, vibrantly alive?
Do I want to feel from the marrow
of my bones out to the last millimeter of
peel of skin?
Do I want to be touched by sun,
embraced by racing briny air?
Do I want to see the effervescence
of a hovering hummingbird’s
Do I want to witness a sun rising
shimmering red–orange orb
out of night, or pinking blushing
and purpling into sinking gold below
the horizon or beyond a mountain or
into the sea?
Do I want to hear the morning sounds
of honking migrating birds, mourning
doves in the eaves, or the whispering
to howling of hurricane winds?
Do I want the up and down,
before and after, beneath and above
within to return to balance, undeviating?
Do I want to love, allow all the way in
surrendered, entered, seen, known, without
glamor or mask or armor?
Do I want to laugh and weep and wail and
dance and swim and sail and walk and climb
and, and, and?
Do I want to honor the ancestors
the spirits, invite them to our
tables, say their names out loud,
tell their stories and ease their
haunting embrace their holding ?
Do I want to heal what had been
broken and make of every broken place
brilliant knowings and wealth?
Do I want to place on funeral pyres
what is no longer of use, was never
of use, was always perjury placed
in the way by avarice and misogynoir?
Do I want to love myself enough
to conceive and carry myself
to labor and birth myself, to succor
and nurture myself anew and
to earn my own life?
And should I want to live
Will I decide to live and if
I decide to live will I
Insist on living joy?
I do. I do.
© Andrea Canaan
Rio Vista, California
October 3, 2020