The Way We Are

now the colour of our
counting, backward throughout the
ages to the beginning of history,
where heat began, and also the passion
of an invisible hand, the overarching
entelechy, and frightened by red we
look for amber

where were we then? we escaped
but we don’t recall how—I remember
a fence
a blackboard
a swingset
what do you remember

is mother’s eye opening
is the entering in of order and
our division into things, possessors
of attributes, also happiness;
we are cooling at last, and
staking our plots of land,
the material world emerging and
asserting its authority over spirit,
over uncertainty,
hail amber,
hail the hypostasis.

I don’t enjoy being two
I would much rather be one,
when I wake up
I’m afraid I won’t remember at all,
that it will all be as fake as
things that could have happened,
you must remind me.

enter into paradise
this is the last state of the self—
reconciliation with the disobedient
joy will never end,
this is our eternal garden,
grace, charity,
love forever,
forgetment and indescribable
rest—our purpose is complete

one day we’ll return,
if not bodily then in our minds,
and we’ll remember,
and we’ll at last lay at rest that thing
that separates us,
that has made us the way we are.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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