shel

The Transsexual Chofetz Chaim

Mutant, librarian, poet, union rabble rouser, dog, Ashkenazi Jewish. Neuroweird, bodyweird, mostly sleepy.


I write about transformative justice, community, love, Judaism, Neurodivergence, mental health, Disability, geography, rivers, labor, and libraries; through poetry, opinionated essays, and short fiction.


I review Schoolhouse Rock! songs at @PropagandaRock


Website (RSS + Newsletter)
shelraphen.com/

Translated by David Bowles

There are many ways to say it,
but the meaning of life
is to become a chunk of charcoal,
willingly, for someone else.

From the day floors must be heated until spring arrives,
the most beautiful sight on the glorious streets of Korea
is a truck, loaded with charcoal,
struggling up a hill.

As if it knows its purpose,
charcoal burns on and on
once its body catches fire.
I refused to grasp the lesson
though I ate hot soup and rice each day,
for I was afraid that after loving
with all of my being, I’d be left alone—
just a lump of ash.

So far, I’ve never become charcoal for anyone.

Yet when I think about it,
life is about being broken
into chunks.

I never thought to spread myself upon the ice
so others might walk more safely
when the world is slippery
with early morning snow.

Source:


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