Habit of Light
On ceasefire nights, where love is disconcerting
and there were no words to weave into myself,
I learned to listen to your memory
And the spaces filled with percussive kindness.
In the summer, I made the time cold.
In the winter, I am learning how to thaw.
In the slow wisdom that mists down from
gentle clouds in nights big enough to absorb
all of our anger, all of our strangeness,
I had seen those watery souls
with love hewn eyes.
And they abrased my impatience
until all i knew was to wait
while grass grew long around me
and my beard grew rough and stubborn.
Hold me gently
I am walking with my eyes closed.
Hold me gently
I am new to my beautiful condition.
Hold me gently
While I am made myself gentle.