Maybe I am combusting
into something strange,
like the way sunset throws colour
on the canvas of sky.
I feel joyful as a sunflower
about to explode into pollen
in the hand of a little girl.
I dig my fingers into your humus
& I find beauty.
Is this not the miracle
my body promised me?
Today I'm dwelling
near the fourteen peaks,
clambering towards God
with breath of wind.
I'm alive!
I swear it
to all the four corners of my hovel.
I'm not satisfied yet.
I'm eating this life to the marrow
& though the days fly away
to the moon,
though time relapses
into a grey haired thing in my arms,
I am happy.
Tomorrow carried its pain
to the room but I turned
into a beaver digging a dam
into the flood.
You will not understand
but this sun shines.
It has done the rain into the ropes
& the bell be rung into this fight.
I'm a rose in my lover's hands,
a twirl in the skirt of her dance;
what more does this body want?
What heaven, what angel, what cross
can this body not take?
Like a ghost in a Lazarus,
I take breath in the morning
& say to myself:
this earth will find you
but before it does, live.
