We came here
Far from home
In the noise
Where you never
Hear a sound.

There’s a way
Rolled tightly
In the palm
Of your hand

And it unfolds
On the stage
Where all the ages

Come and go, strung
from the frail
horizon

Of the eyes,
In meandering trails.

Keep me awake
In the noise,
And all the ghosts
Dancing on our bones.

Keep me awake
Under the blanket
of thin white petals
Soon after the blossom

On those meandering trails
Keep me awake

Until we cross the border

_____________________

Photo: Doreen Dee