KUPUNA HULA
Last night the
rain came in.
Lying there I knew
that could have been us.
The way we met:
land, cloud, their heat
exchanging day for
night. It found me this morning
out here in the
pasture getting ready
to tell this
story, how we got this far
and step this way,
sweep one foot across
the threshold,
hold our arms out to each other
thus and thus. We
turn one side. A hand flutters
close to the
mouth. We’ve come this far, we say.
We give ourselves
now to something words
can’t express. We
have to say this with the knot
they tied at
birth, circling, circling. We reach up,
maybe clouds,
maybe stars in this story.
The knees give a
little. Our eyes beckon to each other
across the
distance. There’s mountains. Now there’s
a fierce hot
stirring beneath our feet
but we shake our
heads oh so lightly and smile.
We’ve left
ourselves at the door. The windows
are all open.
Everything’s spinning or holding strong.
We do this for each other, for our children,
for the old ones.
