Sunday, December 24, 2006
a letter about Graham
He cannot, step lightly.
Graham’s heartbeats and footsteps thunder.
the world, left without choice, expands
in the presence of absolute life,
resting, only when he does.
his eyes regard you with utter openness,
his soul, laid bare upon his pale, and bandaged skin.
is free to look upon,
to touch, to embrace, and sometimes, even kiss;
if you can bare its raw beauty.
for he has not yet learned how to guard it,
to shield it from his worlds blows, or joys.
his sorrows wrap themselves around the moon
and the oceans feel their pull.
in ecstasy he is flings brightness to the stars,
and they twinkle back their gratitude;
on earth branches arch from leaves’ laughter
a mere home may not contain such elation.
his heart, he sometimes carries
cupped, in his still small hands;
these are the times I glimpse the man,
he will become.