As Poetry Recycles Neurons
“…the twenty-first century brain is not an organ whose fate is fixed at the moment of conception and birth, but is a plastic and open to external influence throughout development and indeed throughout life.”
(Rose and Abi-Rached, Neuro; 217 (Chiao 2009))
Today I was reading a blog called ‘Humans of New York’
The guy Takes photographs of people and then asks them questions.
One picture had these two kids sitting backs against a building.
The girl looked my friend Bailey and had the most beautiful smile on her face
The boy had a clump of red curly hair, shaven on the sides
leg outstretched with neon green tape around his boot
He looked like he wanted to laugh because she was.
That moment where laughter becomes contagious
The quote under said
“Where did you grow up?”
“We’re growing up right now.”
It made me cry
There’s beauty in change
and i’ve been thinking lately that we were all born to die
in the literal and poetic way
but i’m beginning to think we die
because living is a process
if there’s no end
there’s no process.
My mom told me I cried every birthday when I was little
I’d tell her
“I’m one year closer to dying.”
But I have to live to die
Maybe that’s what growing up is,
Realizing living life includes death
A needed part of the equation.
And as humans, our potential to change is phenomenal
So I shant waste this plasticity
on why the world is so bad
and why my death is to imminent.