Malak Mattar, Untitled (detail), 2024, charcoal on paper
You Can See How the Waves
You can see how the waves
roll in and out but the shore
remains intact. Essentially
unchanged. Or how a seed
opens and the shoot pushes up
while the root thrusts down.
A horizon of sun above, mineral
and water below. Argue
if you must how the shore manifests
instability, how grains of sand
are swept off the beach and cast
into new maps. Or how
canopy shades the smaller tree
to death while roots crack
the mortar of a house. Cry out what
you imagine the heart
of the world to be. What solace
in the harsh knowing all you
love will perish? The sun rises.
The sun sets. If you think
of a great circle you are half right.
Consider center and radius,
not circumference. Consider containment.
You choose the weight of stone
in your belly when you could
be a feather. In the end none
of this matters. As you fall or fly
remember the way of the sea.
To surge is to recede is to surge is to recede.
