La Résilience

Lyrics

One drop.
In the bottom of the glass.
I hold you to the light from the window.
Just enough.

They say Mithridates of Pontus did this every morning.
In his quiet chambers, a collection of fears.
A little bit of hemlock, a grain of arsenic.
Teaching the body not to die.
A conversation in a language the blood understands.
He called it building a fortress.
I call it getting ready for you.

This is the beautiful damage.
The eloquent poison.
The dose that teaches resilience.
What doesn't kill the cell
makes the membrane stronger.
A little of the fire to prepare for the flame.
A low-grade fever for the soul.
Hormesis.

In eighteen eighty-eight, Hugo Schulz watched his yeast.
A whisper of mercury in the dish.
And they bloomed.
They thrived on the threat.
It's the shock of the cold lake in October.
The argument that clears the air.
The terroir of a vine that had to struggle for its water.
The wine is better for the thirst.

This is the beautiful damage.
The eloquent poison.
The dose that teaches resilience.
What doesn't kill the cell
makes the membrane stronger.
A little of the fire to prepare for the flame.
A low-grade fever for the soul.
Hormesis.

I used to want the easy sweetness.
The comfortable silence.
But your truth is a bitter herb.
And I've learned to take it daily.
Just enough to sting.
Just enough to make me rebuild the walls a little thicker.
You are my measured dose.
My careful, daily poison.
My love.

One drop.
In the bottom of the glass.
I lift it to my lips.
To us.
To the beautiful damage.