We stretch to see the light. We bend
down to touch the darkness; the narrow
spaces between the spine are the hands
of our soul. Since when have we, moving
through the world, learned to mark it
like wolves in the woods; our territory
found by smell, color, trampled grasses?

Once there was a man who could not move;
his body was a building made of steel,
glass and concrete. But his heart crawled
through its window every night to fly
over the canyons like a bird and brought
back with it the sky, the clouds, the red
black dusk.

1 comment:

RachelW said...

Such beautiful imagery.