The same, these many years in the same state.
Forever staring motionless at that self-same spot.
Absolve me, for I am.
My dream is the dream of a pond, not just to mirror the sky —
but to let this one rose bleed me dry.
I’ll climb from her roots to her veins
and when leaves wither and fade, I will refuse to mourn
because I was dying to live.
My joy is the joy of sunlight.
Pardon me, hounded hope,
for laughing now and again.
In a moment of creation, I will leave shining words.
Whenever seedlings sprout, I shall sing a song of greenery.
I am.
My grief is the grief of birds, flying over hardship and failure.
To a future of warmth and light,
in every heart,
for every year and season,
for all that I am
has been a gift
from god …
