On the seventh day of direct observations

behind the destructive power of weapons

I started to marvel again at language.

The obstinacy of a bird with which

the population of the older passes to its young

mouth to mouth

this inherent ability, warmed by millions of throats,

the capacity to use

the vocal apparatus

along with the cozy coordinates

of permanent residences,

of long returns, of the final defense.

In the midst of the fire

the human speaking at first seems strange  –

like a mermaid who swims

to stare at a shipwreck.

But then, sharply and clearly, you see –

the simplicity and nobility of a miracle:

lips move.

The human is speaking.

Their language is yours.