Untitled April 1938

sensation of warmth, of cold
of wind
of rain
of touch
existing in all their purity
wordless

gadget, maroon-breasted conure, hovering
snowflake, short-haired white & grey kitten, with me
wind, freakishly wild, driven
pregnant with precipitation,
the smell of it filling my nostrils
the taste of it dancing over my lips

premonition of a passing
tinge of regret
held at a distance, the heart in tension with logic,
knowing, knowing
not how or why or even in what language, but
knowing

chasm filled in with rock and sand,
precious stone, ice and earth
rose petals and lavender
bull thistle and autumn leaves
wild mustard and soldiers' rages
clover ...

life is what it is
i moved on ...
adventure
school
more adventure
it is all right, she said
it is what you were meant to do

but the way in which i did it!
clumsy and careless, even when i tried to take care
not seeing the tears in time and space as i lept and ran
kicking and
punching and
pushing and
rushing my way through ...

i am flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone
smiles of your lips
and laughter of your heart
our tears find each others' eyes
and our words, gentled in time, at last have translated...
no
at last have trusted.

language, our own
learned in the womb
yarn dolls and piano lessons
the great blue heron and baby robins
kittens and barn swallows
and bees
their language was our language

sun rises in gold and rose
sets in violet and blue
moon, silver liquid
bathes us

mother, daughter, goddess, all