MetaDevotion

We know from leaves
that winter is, at bottom,
separation from lines –
of sap and fire, juice and blight,
the wrath of G-d, flowers.

We know from words
that winter is, at bottom,
a glottal stop, the connection
broken when there is no sound
to land on.

We know from the sun
that January begins things,
presides over the heat,
the juice, the blood.

And there is still
no sound this month
beyond the choke of the throat
as it tries to open onto song.
But I’ll tell you, love

we know from G-d
that winter is the space between
love and demons,
spring and blight,
horror, gratitude,
a despicable longing –
for trees and sap and the wrath of G-d

and the leaves are falling
and the leaves are falling
and silence is a lot less golden
than you in winter conversation.

We know from knowing
that you are the sky
of my story
and I am lighthouses in the sea
so you’re never too far out
for me. But I am cold here,
on the edge. And January
pulls the sun around too slow.
Though I know from leaves
where to go. Where to wait
for G-d and spring.

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Kyla wrote that, because she is the best!

That's all...