Will you hold me when I ache,
when the day that changed the world
nears its sweet dusky end?
I thought I could do it alone,
stand here in the face of
these bald transmutations,
chest thrust out
like the immutable warrior
I would like it to be,
and hold my gaze,
and reach with ease
to the song inside me
that echoes the great one harmony.
Mistaking myself for one of us, I feel
I would like to be a tree for birds,
water, sun and rain for trees,
I would like to be the mountain
that appears to need nothing at all
as though it arose from
its own history
we can neither approach nor grasp.
The parts that are broken inside
aim for the top of the mountain
(and I’ll never make it this way)
instead of circling around it,
maybe barefoot, maybe on my knees,
where there are those who are
always ready to take me
as one of their own.
Before I forget again, I ask,
Will you guide my hand into yours?
Can we ache and burn
and laugh and dance together?