Some days must remind us of elephants
and their patient motion over the earth,
which values slowness, time
so constant it becomes unnoticeable as air.
An hour slips into the next, leaving creases
on our skin, impressions more subtle than scars
after the tooth marks of the forgotten violence
have disappeared. What stays with us
is nothing personal. Elephants know
their bones will not remember the way
the light beckons in certain seasons, negotiating
journeys across forests, toward cliffs
reluctantly splitting sky. This gentle sky
and its familiar hovering, oblivious to us,
our fragile bodies lit by the flicker of the mind,
possibly imagining elephants wandering the earth
which in centuries to come will hold our bones,
voiceless through the unfolding ages
