It pulls my heart through the ribs, turns it inside out, smears it in the caverns of my cellular, memory, where the rich golden light of that beautiful, barren earth glows so earnestly against the bluest sky I ever saw.
There are the bones of the earth.
The crag and peak, the boom, the waiting of the storm: the knowing.
There is the dapple and the echo, the howl and eclipse.
Every day there is the sun, searing through the mind’s mist
and the glorious surrender as he dips,
pulling the blanket of night over tender bodies.
There is the underground river, the boat, the shaman,
where the stones warn against being misplaced.
There are the fragments of souls.
There is the birth and death of me, the roar inside my heart.