by Alexis, Grade 11
To Luna
Life is beautiful. I know this is true
because I’ve seen a thousand scars
deliberately carved onto your wrists, like how
a thousand roads, forever, lead men to Rome.
Life is beautiful. Kids would doodle
with pencils clutched in tight-clenched fists,
lines and curves streaming, their sketchbooks
unconsciously creating mathematical
parabolae, hyperbolae, formulae,
mapping the countless colourful capillaries
underneath your skin, freckles on your cheeks
are stars, endlessly morphing into constellations.
Behold, we need not venture; at ille ne adpropies
inquit huc solve calciamentum de pedibus tuis
locus enim in quo stas terra sancta est;
and how very blessed we are, gladly
breathing, living on and on, the Earth madly
spinning, round and round and on and on, and
Life is beautiful. Sic, vita mihi pulchra est,
because you are beautiful; the graceful span
of rainbows, between you and I and earth to sky –
arc lengths of a covenanted happiness index,
numbers teaching you numeric blessings –
the innumerability of mathematical proofs
that cannot be proven to us, lest we pray
to omnipresent gods, God and beyond,
every day I look up to your eyes and think:
Life is beautiful. I know this is true.