Often, it’s difficult to even throw a glance
Into the reflection of my mother’s old hand mirror
To watch the ripples of light cast shadows over my portrait
After having dreamt of a band of angels
And having held their glowing faces
In my trembling hand
Upon waking, I lose reality
Upon seeing the sunlight, I close my eyes
I begin to stutter my answer
To their inquiry into my well-being
Only to drop my gaze
For it to shatter on the stone of the floor
And for me to weep
In earnest
Yet there she stood
In the puddles which the rainy days left behind
She tells me that she wouldn’t blame me
If I fell into her eyes
Reaching out for our hands to entwine
She says:

Leap into my arms
I will shield your precious eyes
From what will steal your mind
And carry you to a place
Where you can open your heart
Without fear
And sing
Without hesitation

Sleep never came last night
And the yellow radiance of the moon was too bright
So I sat in the loft
Reading my palm
By the glow of a little bedside lamp
My head ached
Whenever it met the softness of a pillow
So I tried to compose an epitaph
While my body complained of an ongoing fever
In the passion of my delirium
I had hoped
That Grandmother Death would come to visit me
In my waking dreams
Like that babbling woman
Whose murmurs shook the roots
Of immortality
But that old spirit who I had learned to love
Never knelt before me
To let my burning lips
Encounter her wrinkled cheek
I glimpsed her pale profile in my bedroom window, once
But when I pressed my nose against the glass
I could only see
A flickering light in the neighbor’s yard
I never could decide
What it meant

And now
Beneath that pink and orange sky
I pray to the LORD and the bumblebee
The soft petals of an Iris flower
Between my fingers
And beads of thought
Hanging onto the tips of my eyelashes
I never did die
And I never did see
But I tried to write my poems honestly
I scrawled them on the backs of old love letters
But they always ended up eaten up in the fireplace
Crinkling in the heat
I am beginning to think
That the throbbing of the clouds
Is really a heartbeat
And perhaps the silence which answers
My plea for her to return to me
Is really somebody’s voice
Whispering:

Leap into my arms
I will shield your precious eyes
From what will steal your mind
And carry you to a place
Where you can open your heart
Without fear
And sing
Without hesitation