Communion
Oct 2, 2022
even the trees part for you
each branch an enigma in green and brown
each telling its past and future in leaves
fallen and not
giving way, always giving way.
I press one moment against another
spin out long days
touch leaves that speak my name
know the contours of my feet
I unwrap old pain,
leave its tenderness outside me
on my arm, mouth,
where I can most easily see and taste it
wait for bark to scab over
how long it will take
how many days of air and light
how many nights
the soft crooning of the small animals
filling my ears
maybe tomorrow, or next month,
or in a year I will emerge from communion
whole again
and the trees will make way for me.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2022
