Sunday’s Journey

Access what brought you here in the first place.
Feel further than father,
go where most mothers cannot,
find your feathers where no one else
placed anything worth flying over.
Sense with all your openings
and THEN the mutual parade of our lives
can wind its way downtown, out
through the empty suburbs with gates
and maids and Tundras all muscled
and obscene,
towards the two trails
leading to the blue-green
waterfall ( perhaps a red barn covered
by a brown shake roof hides over hillsides ahead)
where we fell nude,
were cooled,
enchanted and enticed by grief’s confusion,
surrounded by boulders
of obduracy and fluent moments
within our baptism of tears,
our embodied wet birth, this sad sad end
into liminal spaces beyond
what’s contained in books or words to say
where we are in ALL,
acts of measurement fade,
dissolve in sweet water,
what is here now,
the dare of unknown
calls quiet and clear
over the rocks and stairs:

ascend and descend
ascend and descend

towards another new day
and recondite whispered promise
of night’s mysteries,
dark and golden,
molding and unmolded.