I thought I was there enough to be here,
thought the sky was free
to fly in if I could fly,
I thought the flowers at my feet
had me in mind
then it all, I all, changed—
why did you make me grow up?

I didn’t know how to answer the child
or whatever he was,
I was silent but looked serious
as much as I could make my face look
to show him that I cared, at least,
even if I had no answer,
didn’t even understand his question.

Then he shouted:
Why did you grow me up?
His voice had the child’s shrill
hidden in the man’s timbre.

I wanted to calm him
or make him less unhappy,
so I mumbled something about
how I had no choice,
we happen to each other,
can’t help it, things happen.

Then, more calmly but no less sternly
he explained: Things
do not just happen.
We happen them.

Yes, I cried in turn,
we happen them and they happen us,
the snowdrops at your feet
really do mean you,
the sky is waiting for your consent,
then we can both fly.

Yes, he said, you’re right.
But where will we go?
Where will we go?

25 January 2021