A flicker is how you describe a static shock.
A light bulb. A lightening bolt.
You do not describe a beating heart with a flicker.
You can. But you do not name it or else it becomes real.
Some people go their whole lives without experiencing the thing that cannot be named.
Others, the unfortunate, have seen it played over like a broken record.
Most, like me, experience no more than a few blips in our daily lives
and then we mark them down as milestones.
The miles we must travel in order to see them.
Nature is uncouth.
It takes and it gives without blinking an eye.
or opening one.
broken bird lay on solid pavement.
after Nature’s storm.
Humans count the minutes the bird is worth.
Nature counts the number of ants the bird can feed.
The worst moment of living is being half dead.
But even half dead, the pulse beats
pressed against translucent skin and unfinished feathers
On and off. On and off.
it does not flicker. it beats. one two three.
This surety in Life.
makes Pulse so Edible.
Understand this until it becomes Second Nature.
The rhythm of another life can be consumed until it matches your own.
The birds eat the ants and the ants eat the birds. We Humans.
Well, we just cry in the sidelines.
That which cannot be named is Edible.
When you eat it, you consume its power.
it passes through you and then you eat it again.
With each time, you become a little less afraid.
You begin to understand that it isn’t your enemy.
Just Nature with her single open and closed eye.
It doesn’t have to make sense.
Baby birds can die.
Old men with bad hearts can die.
I can die.
I’ve cried at each stone, but I won’t cry at mine.
Consider it the destination.
The final milestone
finally set in perfect time.
How I deal with small deaths and then larger ones.
It is bittersweet, but alas, I can now taste both flavors.