Yearning

Free me from these tremors that awaken me in the night

when my only company is the shimmering call of the owl

in the trees below my room.

 

I was remembered by the tall young man from the place

where the sky never touches the line of hills around it;

the way a shy boys’ hand hovers near a pretty girl.

 

I am closer now, even in the india ink blue darkness of night

to a moment of reunion with ashes in the wall, and water

that flows from a place high and far.

 

I will dive towards this moment of dreaming, in the gathering dark

as the stars shudder into vision and the wheat stubble rustles

beneath the crazy racing of hares under the moon.

 

I will be free just for a moment from the tears that arrive at dawn

and become a sorcerer who grasps at wasps with bare hands

and watches the purple lightning above the earth.