twelve years of redemption

it’s the best way
to stay unknown
to write these small poems
for no one
and for everyone
songs that seldom rhyme
sung for a spirit
yet unborn, to one day– find
or perhaps, for one passed
or the soul’s words
dropped into the jacket pocket
of a stranger, a passerby
without wish of any return
as might autumn gift us its solace
gold and crimson dancers, pirouetting
above love’s lake-reflection memories
and I met a man today
who’d another’s heart
transplanted
beating within his chest
he said
it nearly killed him
while saving him
and that it came from
a girl
just seventeen years old
when she’d needed it
no more
he said
most times
another’s heart
well, it just don’t take
to its new human
and the other times
it only lasts a decade or so
before it takes you
where we’re all headed anyway
but that he’d had this new heart
a bit longer than expected
he’d had an extra
twelve years of redemption
he said

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