Current

       They walk the stars, seeding the world,

       like dream water running,

       spilling into paintings and plaintive calls,

       to the unknown that abandoned us here.

       Spears fly over our heads,

       and animals run from under our feet,

       until we tire and fall by water’s edge,

       drinking, knowing something familiar,

       as if beginning the way home were here.

In between the sun and moon,

two birds are on the water.

​One is gone.

The teapot is whistling,

the chair is empty.

Wherever I am,

​I hear the song of your life.

      Before You Are Gone

       When you can no longer see,

       and your eyes are white glows of inner knowing,

       I will sit with you.

       When your hands can no longer find the wooden spoon,

       or the giving bowl,

       I will guide them.

       When barely a word can be spoken,

       and gentle breaths are the songs of your voice,

       I will press my ear close to your mouth and listen,   

       and each breath will be like sweet honey,

       because you are inside them.

       Innocent  

       When I dream of you, you are a little girl,

       soft and shy, looking down at the ground,

       embarrassed about something, 

       afraid to look up and see the sky,

       or to show us your face.

       As if you are afraid you might be scolded

       for enjoying yourself.

       You are beautiful, but no one tells you,

       so you do not look up.

       And sometimes, you are older,

       a woman, having had children, 

       and I see you, 

       looking down, afraid to talk, 

       trying to hide while standing in a line,

       or trying to disappear, so deeply within yourself,

       that we would never be able to find you.