how long do we bear the wound
given us by a brother?
what garnishes or bedazzlements
do we use to cover it?
are we all born roughly innocent,
or brave without reason?
how long does it take
until we recognize ourselves?
i was once dared to put my hand
in an animal’s mouth.
i did it, but feared
its indeterminacy.
do we face the possibility –
that those we might love most
might possibly wound us most –
and exercise courage?
and how, like our friends;
and how, like our enemies,
we prepare ourselves for pain
and hope that we find joy.
