When you have swum the rapids
and come to shore, stood on the sand
and found yourself upright . . .
what more can there be?
Perhaps, only to sing an aria
from a heart overwhelmed
by a love researching his own heart. . .
only to find newborns who are
the best of blends of mothers and fathers,
(loved wisely and well), with heads wide open. . . . .
to find a world that was as promised,
with roses blooming in December and
Thanksgiving on the first day of Spring.
It is these and more
and when the cardinal sings
I will acknowledge his song to show
that a life can be lived with a mind open
to hear muses sing their songs of joy and
pray their mourning songs.
To show that a heart can be
stripped of itself like layers of onion skin
and still keep a steady beat.
I’ve taken the long way home and
nearing the gate, please catch me, I say
and pull me on through.
I will answer c’est moi, it is I,
to prove we can go home again and again.