in the days leading up to my 30th birthday,
mostly i’m surprised
by how fine i am.
life is so often
a safari of suffering,
a constantly replenishing
vessel for grief. sometimes i think
my blood must be laced with steel.
still, thank god for small graces.
for my lyft driver who switched
his music from hardcore rap
to lush R&B once i boarded, songs
i ended up low-key shazam-ing.
that first bite of sourdough focaccia,
tangy and pillowy. and later,
dissolving into a tub
full of steaming water,
stealing the ache from my bones.
from reaping grace to sowing it.