When I go I will go far
I'll follow the sun from the riverbed of my childhood home
To places where the mountains hold no snow
I will sing my freedom song to the birds along the road
I'll braid sweetgrass through my hair
Cup my hands around the moonbeams
And sleep out in the air
When I go I will be
The stars in my own eyes
Wool blankets, blue crickets, battered books, tall trees
I will be strong legs and bitter tea
The climbing of the mountain for the diving to the spring
I will be art out on a blanket and poetry sold for free
Abandoned cabins and agates on the beach
Cold water in the morning, apples eaten to the core
I will be anywhere I need
I will be everything I see, and then a little bit more
When I go, I will be
The sun in my own eyes, the sand beneath my feet
The ocean in a cup, for it takes salt to make me clean
I'll be the moss on every tree, a moving prayer on folded knees
Whispering bliss, singing praise, thank you for this day
Thank you for the sun, my heart, the sea
When I go, I will go free

I like the thought
of the sweet sound of breathing.
I like the breadth
of time spanning shoulders, tanned hands
and sunshine on irises.
In the sun you can be more than what you are,
just like in the dark.
I like the thought
of a lover to roll through me,
like an anchor or an avalanche, a new start.
I imagine I'd like the taste of devotion.
I imagine it would taste like the the ocean and
sound just like waves crashing-
a paralyzing undoing, rewriting the land.
I like the thought of making love like art,
but the sun can be cruel
and things fall apart in the dark.
So I think
I like rain the best,
the way it makes the leaves sing
and my eyelashes cling.
No, I never could complain about the rain.