POETRY

 

I Build This House, This River Alone

 

I

Blossom me out, calling me
 
From the silence of the unreachable regions,
 
And of my territorial heart.

 

                       
II

It is a terrible beauty, a stone tossed
 
In a rippling circle, then a beat, one
   
Then another, until my breathing

Is no longer razored, jagged,

But like a courageous strong wind

Able to move and be moved.    

                                                                                                                                                                                                            

III
  
Silence! Listen! Beat and breathe and breathe again.

Piece by piece and stone to stone, I build this river, this heart,
         
This house alone.