AT THE WELL
I am still the skin and bones
of old constricting stories
living in the wilderness.
We too are tasked
as was the tribe of Levi,
with dismantling the mishkan, our sanctuary
for the sake of protection, of restoration,
as with Jacob
who became Yisrael
that is to say all of us,
falling back sometimes
into his old name
I was named
for the dream of peace
May this poem
in praise of emptiness
restore a drop of radiant silence
glean the broken letters
as in yoga, zi gong
my swaying hips
Gratitude a bowl
READ MOREI want to tell you
that on Mothers day
I saw ten swans on
the Millers Falls River
When once I was
a doorway
two in one
becoming two
seed rests in the vast
overstory light bursting