Tonight

I sing to the spider, the fern curl, the leaf,
belly of harvest, seed turned in, rain,
I sing into ancient space,
fingers wide, intention clear -
I am quiet life,
a love laid wrapping
every inch of me in ultraviolet,
I am wine, paperbacks
lost keys, lost time.
I am a child who sees the child
who sees the adult,
who finds,
once in the body of an adult,
they had no where to hide.
I am a sister, a mother to many,
I am a wide heaviness
that gives other's hope,
helps them see the tunneled light,
they thought they couldn't find,
I excavate with others,
we dig and dig until it's in their eyes,
joyful, lifted, immortal skies.
I am Egypt and sometimes Greece,
unfolded letters, pomegranate beads,
far too much waste, and mostly human,
one who longs for creativity,
for all to seek a Muse,
one who loses the ability
to refrain from a deep dive,
a continued curiousity
about what it means to be.