them hands. them lungs. them fingers filled with fire.

For the strange women whose hearts beat at three hundred and sixty six beats per minute

For the ones that wanted so badly to

Take the stars in their palms

And give them to beautiful faces on the streets, even with burnt and blackened hands

For the children who live on forest floors

And the wives of mountains

Who know the inside of wolves’ mouths and are never afraid

For the ones who know the underside of the water and the overside of the skies

Who know the hearts of mountains and will sing to them

For the girls who live with oceans in their blood

And boys with fishermen as hands

And hooks the size of hearts

And hearts so much bigger

That they catch on everything

You fit so completely into your skin

With hands that only your fingers can fill

And lungs which only know how to breathe your own air

For the ones who keep tallies on their skin of how many times a day they fall in love

Wash it off in sleep

And still wake the next day covered in numbers

For the ones who love without abandon

Create without abandon

Breathe in through them lungs of yours without abandon

Breathe in through them lungs without abandon

Keep on breathing

Keep on breathing because this is what sets you apart from the stars

And they burn themselves up with jealousy because of it

Keep on beating that blood through them veins

It’s an uphill battle

But the seas, they see

And they feel the same

Fighting their own to caress them mountains you call home

Keep on creating

Without abandon

Filled with fever

This burning in them fingertips that only your fingers can fill

Them forests only you know

And keep on going