Another Opening

Thunderous release,
and the sky cracks

open with a planetary
climax. Fluid, we move

from hard places into
the softest places,

thirsty and blooming,
in all this dry dirt,

rejoicing the raindrops
and also the tears.

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When There is Nothing Left to Do

When there is nothing left to do,
let sunshine become your upturned face,
hug her with your cells,

stop to kiss his face,
look into their eyes
for longer

than you would have yesterday.
Listen to music,
make music,

stretch your arms
as high as they will go toward the heavens
and reach your heart

to the sky. Bow,
or pray, or listen,
or simply love.

Share the water.
Soften your voice, open
your ears.

Make tea. Step outside.
Laugh, or cry,
or do whatever

it is that you need to do,
as long as it is
real.  The world needs you

to be real.
Let all of the old you’s walk away
through the open door.  Become

the touch of the lover,
a child’s face,
the teakettle that hums.

 

Marcellina

The first time you saw her,
you had to lay down
your body beside
Marcellina.

She holds you inside
her dark folds and white blankets,
the mountain, she stands,
Marcellina.

And under the midnight
woven with stars,
a truck sleeps beneath
Marcellina.

It rains until morning
as mist wraps its legs
around a lake lost,
Marcellina.

And in the soft sunrise
before the first frost,
a canopy gold,
Marcellina.

And just when you tell her
your heart will not go,
she tells you the same,
Marcellina.