there is no Noah-gene abounding of me
no spin of the wheel offering another lifespan allowance equal to what you’ve long since spent
in silence, find truth
there is no infinite number of star-filled skies
no take-backs or do-overs, despite my shouts of forgiveness and this miracle heart transplant
in truth, find silence
Sacred space, take me backI watched
You watch
The fleeting snow
Before it took its leave
You put down your go
What did it tell you
What it told me
That bruises aren’t all bad
That time heals
All things
We saw
The three of us
You, me and the sky
The blue-green in our eyes’ skies
Not one can predict us
Dear John, I love you
for proposing our hearts hear
the quiet, the roar.
The loon’s skidding feet
across glassy still tables
for to glacier meet.
The death then new life
when lightning then lumber clashed
you championed this.
Be still would this land
and her creatures take her hand
in fellowship one.
LisaRosier.com 