May the peace of assurance rest upon your shoulders
like a soft cloak that warms you in winter.
May the song of joy fill your heart with energy
like a bird’s call fills the early spring air.
There are two light bulbs shining in the room
like two fixed eyes in a reflection.
Already the person has disappeared
and there is a thud in your head.
It’s like the sound of time passing.
It’s like the echo that would reach you
in advance of your own future death.
We cover the globe with hands outstretched,
palms naked and dirty from ash
lying on our backs, looking at the sky as the spark of life leaps from our eyes.
Mouth opened for the sky;
that’s the you who’s new, who I keep in mind.
Waves of our mothers and fathers flow by,
grazing our toes in this sand of wartime.
The tides have plundered the shoreline, leaving a reek of decay and iodine leaving a reek of decay and iodine and even the high art of a cerulean sky appears to be something strangely buoyant,