

Older
I feel myself become fragile,
Soft and fine and silky.
My skin is like paper; my bones a honeycomb.
I am a map of iridescence,
Liminal as sunlight.
I can see through myself
Like clouds on the sea,
Or sunlight through dust.
The winds are my sisters.
And breath is everything.
I would put pearls in my hair,
Aquamarines on my fingers
Cobwebs around my ankles,
To honour this
Hard won transparency.
Listen,
I believe I can levitate.
How I love how light I am.
Perhaps I am a feather
And can float on air.
It is likely that I can move through walls and mountains
In a cloud of unknowing,
In a place where I do not need a thing,
Except perhaps, the scent of lilies,
The cooing of birds on the roof,
Some wine, the taste of salt.
Perhaps a song or two
To hold my swirling self together,
Tangled for a moment
In the strings and belly of my guitar.
Is this who we are
In the end?
Shanti
Shanti
Shanti
How long I have waited to be
A cloud,
A woman of air and stars.