Ashes and Seeds…2 years past

Another one of those veil thin kind of days

another one of those landscapes made of stories

woven threads of song that last as long as breath

and then become a tapestry of echos

reverberating within the chambers of the lungs

those vaulted cathedrals of grief and praise

some mysterious design afoot

a game with rules made by playing

a play with genius made thru saying

yes

another one of those veil thin kind of days

when each inbreath is so clearly the outbreath of another

when every strange on the the street

was once your mother, and your lover

when our blooming flowers

are so clearly the cookfires of that other shore

and our cookfires

are so clearly the blooming flowers of that other shore

in honor of those nomadic lineage holders

always coming home

in honor of all whose footsteps

fit inside our own

in honor of those whose impossible wings

still beat inside our chests

in honor of those whose fierce softness

is a place to rest our heads

in honor of those

whose songs our children will sing

offering each night’s last breath to the place where grief cycles

singing in your grandmother’s voice

offering morning’s first breath to that place where the night

grows tired of being the night

offering salt tears to the place that holds

the hands that held the knife

offering vision

to each place just out of sight

offering gratitude to the shadows

whose hard work is defining the light