I found a handful of walnuts

Where my heart should be,

Cracking and

Crumbling

And losing their sweetness.

I found a sandstone wedged

Where my tears should be,

Stinging and

Singing

And gathering moss on one side.

I found myself on an airplane

Where I should never be,

Shaking and

Thanking

God for everything I left behind.

When I was younger, I was thinking if I had myself a home,

But the people were all thinking of what day it first would snow.

When I was young, I fought to see if I had a choice,

But the people were just praying in their loudest holy voice.

When I was older, I was keen on driving anywhere,

But the people were all eating in their family rooms with care.

When I was younger than I am now, I didn’t understand

That the people always love you, no matter what you hold in hand.

Now I am at the perfect age to see all my mistakes,

But the people will not care. They’ll love you and they’ll take it all away.

Play me like a quartet minus three,

With the grace of a tree

Losing its leaves,

With the same kind of constancy

Of chirping symphonies

Embracing every eve.

I’d ask you to come to me

Like a sudden summer breeze,

Like ocean tides

Going back to the sea.

There would be no need to pack,

For whatever you think you lack,

I’ve seen your footprints,

And we’d need only to track.

I still have your favorite things.

Sewed together the battered ones with strings

Of old gold and new.

Everything is how you left it last Spring.

And if you decided today,

You’d flip my world like a page

Lost in the wind

And I’d follow it all the way

To the coastline

Where we would spend all of time

Like a hundred dollar bill

Picked up mid-stride.

I’d ask you to come to me.

I’d ask you to sing

The song of my heartbeat,

But what question that brings.

I sand my skin

Smooth with the grain,

Pull my branches

Straight and going

Upwards, clean my

Teeth with

Toothpick fingers,

And whisper to her

Through the gentle

Rustling of my leaves,

“I am the tree

Waiting for you to land,

Full of joy as you fly

And fear as you fall,

And I will be tall

And bend against the wind

Without breaking

For you

And for me

Forever.”

To which she,

With feathered brow,

A golden smile

Sharp at the tip,

Silver crown on

A pitch-black body

Shaped like a bullet,

Replied, her voice

Cutting through the rain and

Traffic, both melody and

Harmony woven together,

“I am the bird

Zipping ’round your head,

Full of joy as I fly

And fear as I fall.

I will be brave

And fly against the wind

Without breaking

For you

And for me

Forever.”

I will not let you

Wrestle your breaking body

From my firming hands.

I will not let you

Accept that you’re nocturnal

And sleeping quietly

Through the daily hours

Of a fuller life,

Of all the smiles that pass us by.

Independence is

Both the joy of the wind

And the fear of the dark.

It is something unearned,

Loved and full of fear

When you think of it.

So now that my knuckles

Are bleeding and sore

From fighting your shadow,

I will not let you

Wrestle your shaking body

From these terrifying lands.

Can we just for one moment

Slip sideways off this pillar

That we’ve stood on all our lives?

We keep repairing its every crack

And licking at the mortar,

Hoping to bake it tough in the light.

It served a purpose once, I’m sure.

Our heads are up here with the clouds.

They’re wisping in and out of our minds.

Cotton balls all soaked in water

And getting heavy with imagination,

But we do nothing with its light.

So come down with me, to surer

Footing where the Earth feels warm,

And we can have a moment together.

I spoke once with a woman there

With crowns on top of crowns

And a two mile-long smile.

She says she knows your name,

But can’t recall the way you smell.

I told her it was a hickory

With subtle hints of lemon,

And she can’t wait to meet you.

A golden evening runs away

Even though I know

Exactly how it’s made:

A pinch of salt and three half-stirs

Of a good night’s sleep

And books with perfect words,

A silver spoon and thirty breaths

Baked on high with love

And good friends speaking depth.

I wait all day for the moment

It comes out dry

And sadness is broken.

Taking breaths like little pills

I know that I won’t need until

The sun goes down, the flower wilts

And thoughts turn into reading wills

All aligned and set to tunes

That we all know, even you

From the days when love was seldom used

And sank away, out from our view,

Like memories that have no meaning,

We’ll set them down, after grieving

The natural way we’d all been teething,

Biting down on a summer day’s last gleaming.

On Sunday morning

She stretched her legs

Up and over the sunrise

As was only possible in those days.

Her fingers splayed

And came back together,

Started writing

In her head, until it got better.

Of love and joy

Her story went,

But by the end

Her mind turned over, and all was bent.

A phone call rang

And knocked her sideways.

Her brother’s heart

Had up and quit on Friday.

She looked around,

And laid back down

In sheets so clean,

‘Til her dreams brought prettier sounds.