​De Que

I see destiny in everybody’s face.

I see destiny in the wrinkles of a smile.

I see it in a married couple walking through the store where I work.

It’s in my younger sister’s eyes. And it grows more vivid with each year she lives. 

I see this thing, this gigantic thing, that is both crushing in its inexorable certainty, and liberating in its promise.

I see it in everything. And I can’t help that feeling that comes over me. It’s a longing desire.

 That those things which are most beautiful, most blameless, be allowed to bloom. Be allowed to live until they decide otherwise. 

But that’s not how it works.

And there’s this sense of some injustice that’s been committed against every living thing. 

But that’s wrong.

This is relief.

This is transfer of energy, at its most basic. 

From one vessel, from one host to the next.

Decay. Destruction. It’s natural and it’s fine.

So to myself, I decided to make a vow;

A vow that when I look into my sister’s eyes, I will see the beauty she is, and not the sadness of my fears for her. A vow to get more Sun, until my skin bronzes over that toasted Pop-tart brown, again. A vow to stop writing mental goodbye letters and eulogies to small, young miracles, that have hardly begun.

 To stop assuming that a beautiful accident can’t last.