play out

i was on the other side,
i was blind and silent as numbers.

i was an instrument of parachuting clouds,
i was a fugitive and an oath to the moon.

i was sown into the plaited earth,
i was boys running and assailing open fields.

i have sons whose purity heaved

with the wildness of the forest,

and who listened to the great
overtures of the Mother when she sang.

sons are a translation
of some ancient scripture,
written on the expanded sky
that rains down their truth.

i was a matter of fact,

i was vigilant and a fleeing disregard.

i was posed in a museum,

i was disordered and rending the flesh.

i was happiest in the silence of breathing,

i was pen to paper and a fragrance of joy.

i have daughters whose riddles menaced
me with their adoring contradictions,
and who heard from the lips
of oblivion lessons about joy.

daughters are a revolution
against some ancient tribe,
taking up arms with the fury of Athena,
building temples upon the hills of cynics.

i believed in the walking

and the waking of mornings,

of the summers of long grass

and the night sky of august.

i trusted in the wonder

and the wander of the soul,

of the change of autumn

and her tilt toward reclamation.

i was a child, living among

the length of wonderment that

stretched as far as i could see,

and i lived in the moment.

my children lead me

away, in a playful manner,

like the laughter caught

in the petals of flowers.

and i put words to the page,

imagining these things

are clear, to make sense of them,

but i think they'd rather i not

and to just play