Resilient no. 2

But then the tightness begins to loosen

with every day, subtly. Slowly.

A smile becomes fuller,

for all types of love

come and fill my heart again:

My grandmother, a good run.

My happy cousins, the ocean.

With each new day and sun,

I begin to forget.

And the idea of forgetting 

isn’t sad anymore.

Because knowing that this thing finally 

gets shined on, burns, and dies,

renews and grows

and you survive

is enough.