Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Then you’ll be alone.
Then call out those companions from childhood:
and pretended to be invisible.
The one to whom you told every secret.
The one who made a world of any hiding place.
while you wondered out loud:
Is the universe the sleep of a woman?
(the color of your homesickness).
Then you’ll know the answer.
Then you’ll spy the wind’ barefoot steps.
with a child who strays in the woods.
shadow of the clock.
is not his father’s face.
are not his mother’s hands.
to the names your mother and father gave you.
Then, you can trade places with the wind.
as a book of candles,
each page read by the light of its own burning.
from Behind My Eyes
Posted by Jim Culleny at 07:01 AM | Permalink