She is old and brings with her
an old knowing
She brings it through storms of time
and rests with it here on my shelf.
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My heart is a bird in
a too-small cage.
She can't even fit
through the door—how
will I set her free?
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She smells of sweet wood and grass
shaggy hair multi-toned in auburn and fawn
big dark eyes rimmed with black
deep as the night sky.
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The visible body and the invisible body entwine
the space between them woven through with
a continuous thread of longing
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Another country, another place, but the same
humans, everywhere, and conflagrations
beauty and ashes mixing, rising in the air
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It is heaviness taking flight
The way the body decays
The way elements disintegrate
Like iron to rust
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We are not the same, but we meet here
in the ineffable simplicity of being.
It’s a secret chamber in the heart.
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Maybe the time has come to grieve
lay down my armaments like yellow leaves of
Autumn and loose detritus after the snow
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It’s more wealth than I can fathom
So I walk in humble awe, stopping
Now and then to smell its fragrant musk
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Some call her limitless sky, mother of wisdom, the source divine
Some call her earth, and fruit and plenty, mother of hearth and home
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Standing at the edge
waves lap at my toes cold
and foamy, pull sand gently
from underneath and
something else tickling
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a circle of ravens in the distance
their loud calls muted through the cool air,
a lark sparrow chitters in the pine tree while a
towhee scratches in the blanket of needles below
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this time, walking over earth, I saw it
the pale luminescence in stone and leaf
it wasn’t new—more like older than time
and wider than the things themselves
my body was exhausted, so I didn’t expect
to go very far, just past the forest service gate
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