A Different Kind of World

There is a different kind of world out there
and it is not called Heaven
or any word they have taught me.

In this place, we have a language with no words.
None of us remember what a scream sounds like.
We have bodies but they do not ache
and they are seen the way
we want them to be.

I know we built it with our own hands
and it is good. I know this is my smallest,
truest hope. The thing is,
everything about this place
removes me from myself.

So much of what I want
is to be less a person.
Fewer crackings and moans.
When I imagine myself
I am barely there.

Clementine von Radics