Infinity

​(inspired by The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button)

The hummingbird is not just another bird,
its heart rate’s 1,200 beats per minute;
its wings beat 80 times a second,
and sometimes, you find it flying across the cold sea
where soldiers swim into their death, and they call it
defending their country, where the tattoos of a sunken ship
corrode into a whirl of their own,
where you talk until the first ray of light shines,
and sit alone by the river you lost your mother to.

sometimes, you find a hummingbird fly backwards
into the future of tomorrow,
into the present of today:
the trees grow trunks, houses decay,
homes are forgotten and people learn to forget
the spaces of their laughter lines,
and the wrinkles of their face;
lungs collapse, eyes close, fingers remember the
keys of the piano, and the line of the dancer strays:
the mothers, the authors, the actors in the play
forget the comfort of their words
and lay resting inside themselves,
and the hummingbird flies backwards into it,
into the miracle of sewing a button with your own two hands,
or learning to grow younger by
watching all those you loved die,

and if you were to stop its wings from beating,
it would be dead in less than 10 seconds,
and even though you might find the aching
in your bones find another place to live,
and even if the idea of simply being might seem ordinary:
it is no ordinary bird, it is a frickin’ miracle;
when you slow down time, and run it backwards,
when the fruit of life lays barren and lost
and no longer ripe, no longer whole,
when you slow down time with moving pictures,
when you slow down their wings
you’ll find the symbol of infinity:
The hummingbird is not just another bird,
its heart rate’s 1,200 beats per minute;
its wings beat 80 times a second,
and sometimes, you find it flying backwards into
the infinity of simply being, after being.

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