2015 10 17
We always find our way in groups of friends
on winding trail of laughter through soft woods
where sunlight flickers on our swishing gowns,
to gather flowers and sit on river shore.
We place our hands on pungent breast of Earth
and feel deep flowing beat of ancient life
surge upward through our trembling limbs of hope
and feel indifferent light enhance our glow.
We laugh and flash our eyes in evening wind
where roots of trees coil from wiggling toes
and we stand tall and spread our arms out wide
and change to trees who whisper secret spells.
But when I open wide my eyes at dawn
and look around for faces that reflect
memories of cooking in kitchen hall
I see they all are now forever trees.
I sit alone on dew-wet grass at dawn
and stare at face that my grandmother wore
gazing back at me from green silent pool,
and though I call their names they never come.
You are now soil that nurtures blooming flowers,
I whisper to their faces that flash clear
before my blinking eyes, and then my breasts
sprout flowers, and I become the round world.