Friday, April 30


for a voice in the wind
to speak your name,
an invitation
to anchor you in this moment
that belongs to no one
but this moment

for a growing thing
to feel its pulse
between your fingers
a validation
of a life

for as long as it takes
to see with shuttered eyes
the path to the water’s edge
a homecoming
through the soles
of your feet

for the white iris
to unfurl before you
revealing its cavernous depth
a seduction
that whispers
to the gnawing hunger

for the aroma
of that which feeds you
to seep inside the hollow places
a prelude
whetting your appetite
to be sated

a phantom limb
will awaken
a reminder
that a withered spirit
severed from the body
can too be awakened
to all that is

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