Baboon That I Am by Jill Stockinger
Why shouldn't I smile
like the baboon I am,
and why shouldn't I dance
when there are stars in the sky?
To welcome the sun,
why shouldn't I sing
with the birds in the branches?
Why shouldn't I?
Despite everything
and because of everything,
I am here,
alive.
At this singular moment
in precious time,
knowing it will not last,
I smile and dance and sing.
There are tears in my smile;
I stumble and lurch.
My singing resembles
the croak of a crow,
but I laugh when I fall.
Dancing and singing,
with hands rough from use,
I welcome the New Year.
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