Wind Story
speaking of death
for me
a matter of merging
with my remembered field
just a little girl
where I first understood it
losing all boundaries
like music, timeless and all about time
a grasshopper, cicada, the buzz of summer life
blowing gently around me
telling me that story
The Backpack
a backpack of heavy fabrics
my grandmother's grandmothers
their sorrows and joys
my mother's sudden wonder
and the backbreaking loads
those men had to carry
stones of war, weighing on them
on that day, I will lay it all down
under a huge tree
I'll fly away
Clearly
just add us all to the list
of fallen angels
the ones that regret the whole Lucifer thing
as we stumble along
yearning for beauty and kindness
on and on
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