The Weightlessness of Burden

The nature of rain says "don't despair"
as if it knows resignation.

Perhaps it does

flinging its tiny body into the mouth of flower,
gliding down the spined bluegrasses

sinking through ground
to anonymity

obedient to gravity.

How like the best of us,
the sacrifice, the tears.


Have You

Notice the fractured colliding;  I'm here,
you can tell me anything- the dreams of burning,
becoming beautiful.  How you wonder
what happens to light when it ruptures
into darkness.  Each night's purple veins,
its pulsing silence; not everything
is visible.  You've heard it too?
I won't pretend I'm not frightened;
neither should you.



Mother of Pearl Set in Silver

Behind the external I listen,
an ear leaning in on itself
and the space where I go

to meet my mother.

Prayers of a mother waken
the daughter;  no words
but silent hands skillfully

kneading the teat
from its single rope of milk,
a seamless, glittering string

of pearls
clanging rhythmically
inside my silver skull;

gone now

like a season of flower
or the rolling, broken buried
shells beneath the sands

whispers at night
to the restless seas
and sad, grey clouds

"Duty, my daughter, 
is the quietness of soul 
not the deafening doubt 

that delays your chores."