Last night the owls
and the coyotes sang me awake,
not a drop of sleep
to drink.
In my home
there is a hand.
Through grief's darkness
she reaches and points.
Sit here.
Take off the blindfold
of what this is
leave it
on the doorstep
of who you think you are.
See what grace
you have become.
God is here.
God's fire is here.
We will be transformed.
All the women in the world
still dance outside.
One sits inside.
She knows who you are.
She has watched you burn.
We overturn a field of rocks
and stare at the fear
we’ve been hoarding.
When the Universe tells us
Her message,
It burns
as a washed face
in winter wind.
It does not waiver
Wonder, negotiate
it goes
with you
on it's mighty back
Galloping.
You will not turn to count
the bags you've left
or if you've locked the door.
Quick like a lightning blade
God's forest fire
slashes holes
for saplings
to grow.
When the Universe calls,
the conversation is -
As you wish. I'm coming.