Beside the River

Low as it may be,
there is power still
between the wide

and tarry banks
that slope always
toward movement,

I want to invite
each wet surge
all the way in,

to rip and cleanse
and ravage, and
beneath the white

torrent, a slow
change a new
shape, a silence.

On Breathing

Wild roots find earth and this is how we fly,
our bodies free beneath the weight of bone,
when hands rise up like wings, become the sky,
each sweet breath climbs us closer to the sun,
and ballast from these thoughts becomes the rain,
falls into each pain I’ve guarded from you,
my vessel flooded, cracks without refrain,
as what moves inside me, moves inside you.
The inhalation opens up the gate,
the exhalation tills the solid ground,
the in and out and in and out of it,
soft feathers on the wind the only sound,
and so near silence, all wings become one
as breath moves in and out and in again.