Bare feet below me, thrust of chalk white sky
stalking above and I
flesh to the press of candle glow
through the window
the rain is swallowing tears
long dry, returned.
Sorrow curls his fragile spine
inside the hands of freedom,
an ocean of ghost bodies walking
side by side forever.
There are new worlds inverted,
refracted and coming into view –
palm touches palm, cheek to sternum
they bloom, flower, and
My life is a glass face:
a curious gaze without
Beautiful light, beautiful light
brave mouth opening the dark,
can you hear me?
“The great courage is still to gaze as squarely at the light as at death.” ~ Albert Camus