so many thoughts to gather -
ideas and threads
and things they've said
and heard and honed

so many thoughts to gather -
the fear and dread
of things unsaid
unlearned, unknown

so many thoughts to gather -
from faith and friends
shall I pretend
they're all my own?

heart to mind
these conversations
hardest kind

head to heart
lost in translation
speaking blind

soul to God
these conversations
yours and mine

Your face, narrow
Like dawn
Young and fresh

Your faith, narrow
Like yawns
Nothing left

Your space, narrow
Like me
No room to let.

It's one-oh-nine AM
the somber cold
is echoing
the conch of sleep
enfolding me
to whisper
waves of morrow
to my dreams

Why must you write,
& why must you sing,
Why must the bird
advent on her wing?

The anatomy tells
of grandeur, of things
you were made for
and long for,

were destined to bring.