My hydrological statement
Dark moon and sycamores
endlessly ethereal
they grace the lapping shore
wanting nothing more
I cross the nickel bridge
In a morning cloud
cursed and bound
to love the restless ones*
The ones who are more
like a burst of wind or an animal
than a person
They are made of air, stitched to heaven, keeping always one hand in the sunset
Here lies a familiar twisting comfort
a hook
a pattern from the past
samsara
help me Tara
to stand alone and listen
while waters rise and glisten
to cradle my own hand
allowing loneliness in
making it my friend
burying the bulb of my heart
promising a deep dormancy
all the way home crying fearlessly:
Come in dark moon!
Flood my body with your empty light leave me reborn
on the muddy banks
of this great river
under the mighty sycamores tonight
endlessly ethereal
they grace the lapping shore
wanting nothing more
*restless ones is a reference to a poem by Robert Service, which was an author recommended to me by my late father’s friend to help me understand his life.
Art by Peter Sugarman
Merenda Cecelia 