It is not failure
It is not failure if there’s a skin
you leave behind,
if tarrying there
would have been holding a living
lamb, piercing its breast
with the skewer
amidst the bleating
fire fire lick this.
And that is why you can cry
and let your sorrow
rise and fall like a spring river.
Since you are groaning
under the weight
of your heart, let me
remind you of the pleasure
of a new field.
Sunlight might be smaller
through new windows
but you cannot stitch up a stone.
The world is looking for you.
It is not a failure if you fight.
Like an angel.