If we go into the rose garden
And follow the fighting song sparrows
Through the winter air to the
Light-glittering lake
Beyond the hill, and
If we are not too timid
Nor too proud,
If we are not too late,
We could forgive ourselves
And reconceive ourselves,
We could resuscitate ourselves
And love again.
We could know what it feels like
To swim naked in a snow storm
As if it were only warm rain.
Don’t you this is enough?
Curled bodies under thick blankets,
Two phones charging, a short
Argument about morning.
And yet there’s the hope,
There’s the concept.
Here is the
Child and the mother.
Here is the
Lineage and the exploration.
Coming, and going.
