I grew to love people too much,
I forgot how to reciprocate that love.

Listen to Things
More often than Beings
Hear the voice of fire
Hear the voice of water
Listen in the wind
To the sigh of the bush
This is the ancestors breathing
Those who are dead are not ever gone
They are in the darkness that grows lighter

And in the darkness that grows darker
The dead are not down in the earth
They are in the trembling of the trees
In the groaning of the woods
In the water that runs
In the water that sleeps
They are in the hut,
They are in the crowd

**The dead are not dead.