I long for stones to put under my head,
to dream of a ladder that reaches
into the sky, where angels go up and down,
to know that God was in this place,
to take stones, and set them as a pillar, pour oil
on the top, wait to give name to
that place, wait for someone to call out
what they have found so I will know what I have lost.
I long, too, for fluidity, for rain to release me
from my vows, to give thanks for every drop,
to fill my mouth with song as the sea is with water,
and my tongue with praise as the roaring waves,
to be incandescent, iridescent, volatile.
This poem was originally published in Natural Bridge, Number 13, Spring 2006.
Image: Finding Balance by woodleywonderworks on Flickr, used via a Creative Commons License.
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