“Abase the proud”
-Horace
most avalanches remember being mountain peaks
as both a wholeness and a confinement—while my
heart searches for average
the way a tornado touches ground.
I get to be deadly or
I get to be inconsequential.
avalanches dream of being sandy beaches,
all they need is some eroding.
the worst thing that ever happened to me
was being told I was special, when all I was,
was devastation. crumbling earth mistaking
sliding downhill for progress. the
difference between people and debris is
you can see the moment a person stops
being a person. while the debris has
always known it was wreckage.
Avalanches used to scare me, but I’ve
never met one that wouldn’t
return to the mountain face, like the
desire to be average could be a penance.
