She was not aware of her weakness
because she spent so much time
observing little ants walking by.
Their little feet, and big strength
their unheard conversations,
the ability of touching smells
and changing worlds around them.
Sometimes she would eat one or two
producing chaos with her hand
to understand if their qualities
could casually achieve her.
She was not sure about the meaning
of impossible as an usual word
because she did not know to desire.
She was only meant to see bird nests
being calmly made in the backyard
and to notice a pretty and strange
gratitude on their flights.
She could not know she was mortal
and was condemned to live as a soul
- a single soul in the rough space -
accompanied by death's wanders.
People turned into stones,
disappearing organically as plants,
were ready to live somewhere
embraced by a harmful sound of silence
in a way she always dreamed about.