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Circumnavigation

It was dark when the light came

like a memory
like a firefly
like a nerve—

like the last of the fallen angels;
like the most beautiful thought
tossed off a bridge
in the quiet
and absolute still

of stars making waves below.

I find myself in this madness,
shaded and sharp
as a moment of glory;

curved
like the palm
of the moon;

two steps behind
never-ending.

I can’t say I was surprised
when the whistle blew
my hair back
like wheat in a gale—

or when the gods
poured down like
slow golden rain

from the crown
to the sea
to the wind;

to life growing seeds for angels

to will
to union
to root—

gifts of the being alone;

or when dawn
washed through
like infinite hands

anointing
my shroud
with the currency
of a perfectly fluted memory

with which
to see
in the dark

an arc
of bodiless
gold.

© Kristin Reynolds 12 30 2010

Circumnavigation

sesheshet

Joined July 2010

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