Carry Wood, Pour Water

Bow to the wood pile
Flesh of this great earth,
Home to many:
you have carried water in your cells,
your breath allowing me to breathe
now your body offers me warmth
Gratitude to you for this offering.

Bow to the wood pile
I carry your bones in my arms
One, two, a bundle cradled
hand supporting the edge against my breast.

Bow to the fire
wood, hollow against stone,
chiming this altar to life

Bone to flesh
flesh to spark
spark to flame
of this one brightness.

Water hisses, rising from flesh
as smoke, greets the space

Is it returning to its source?
I step beyond these walls
Smoke escapes, the night
pervading, still

Rising toward the stars
I pour,
water into the darkness.

I know the rain

Are you sure?
Don’t you know?
Have you researched this?

It rains there a lot
100 inches
200 days, you know

You won’t know
anyone, its no where
3 hours from anything
Don’t you know

Oh I know
the rain very well
you see

I know shoulders hunched
beneath the unrelenting pelt of it
I know skin clammy to the touch of it
bundling myself as tightly as I can
against it seeping in through every crack

I also know cathedrals of green
trees as spires into the sky
draperies of moss that glow in the light

I know the mushrooms that rise, unfurling
in infinite variety of color and texture
they too thrive in damp and decay

I know these places as I know the bones in my own body
Safer even, than the bones in my own body

So yes, it will rain
I will be alone
But how can I be lonely?

And wouldn’t you know?
The sun has shone every day
since I arrived

Now I know the rainbow too.