Who knows what miracles are
Any more? Not me,
Who has grown tired
Of the details
Of a jaded life.
Traveling to the funeral
Of my uncle, waiting
For a flight long delayed.
Sun setting over tower,
Planes queuing on runway
Straining for unknown destinations.
I remember the long walks
Through half empty airports.
No one to say goodbye to;
No one to say hello.
And I know:
My life now
Is miracle.
-after Whitman
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