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.