Glory

What it is to be a 
person! What a 
gracious thing to say,
"I am a person."
Oh we are, we are.

It is good to feel
our bellies full
of things which
do work and make sense,
to feel the swirling cosmic dust which
settles in our newborn bones.

People! The legs
and arms,
the hands which grasp
at all and the empty wishes
we keep tucked in 
our vest pockets,
stuffed in the toes of our shoes.

What it is to be a thing
with a soul we will lose,
but always be.
I say to the body 
small things and great love.
I watch our walking and crawling.
The photos of faded birthdays
and super market cakes.

Red balloons 
there is a lightness to
us which ascends,
when asked.
A softness as
we lie under leaves
and breathe what air
we can.

What a glorious thing,
to be a person,
with a face, and feet
and tongue.

We may walk down the
streets and alleyways 
and say to ourselves
"I am alive, 
I am alive."