Quickening to Incarnation
Known and unknown rest,
One within the other.
Terror rolls in like fog
And burns off in the heat of twin suns.
Rooting to rise
We lay down our bones
To nourish what's to come.
Tidal Breath
Waves crash,
Wash up the beach
And retreat again
Energy without effort
Turning stone to sand,
Giving itself up
To the nature of the world.
I Will Not Die On That Hill
Or any other.
Not on some slope
Between here and there--
Too undignified to
Be called a mountain,
Too much the upstart to
Be considered a rise.
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