Listen. For a drum and a war cry
and the piercing of a sky and the water
that is in all of us
that drains to all the seas and always comes back
Mark says we are all drums.
And I say we are all sand and salt,
Easily worn away by the passing of time.
What a relief to walk free into the red desert
and let the grains peel away, welcomed back into Her arms.
What a relief to be able to play your own drum,
loudly and with no regrets.
No comments:
Post a Comment